


Loja Mbaroi

by Dele_e_zeze



Series: Loja Mbaroi / Strana Listyev AU Series [2]
Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Original Work
Genre: 2022, Asphyxiation, Buried Alive, Burning, Dark, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drowning, ESC, Electrocution, Eurovision, Forced Shit Eating, Gen, Geopolitical Issues, Hanging, Hostage Situations, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Minor Character Death, Multi, POV First Person, Rape, Shooting, Starvation, Swearing, Tabasco, Terrorism, Torture, Triggers, Violence, War Crimes, Xenophobia, burned alive, forced blowjob, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:35:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 24,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24475867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dele_e_zeze/pseuds/Dele_e_zeze
Summary: Hi, the name's Kozma! Me and my friend Nils are representing the UK in Eurosong later this year. What could possibly go wrong? (Update: Everything went wrong.)(Trigger Warning: Uh, this gets pretty bad. The bad stuff starts from chapter 6 onwards)
Series: Loja Mbaroi / Strana Listyev AU Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767871
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanted a really dark story, and why not have it be Eurovision related as well? Everyone in here is a made-up character, NO real people appear in this story at all (due to the content of this work, I feel using real people would be very inappropriate.) This story takes place in an alternate universe, and the names of the entrants for each country were made up by searching for 'insert_country name' and 'insert_country surname' and choosing the ones that I thought sounded the coolest. This story is a cathartic thing for me to write, and is not written for any particular audience. Trigger warnings in the tags and there's a lot of them. Alright, good luck.

I stepped off the stage. Another rehearsal had gone pretty well, all things considered. Oh, hey there. The name's Kozma, Kozma Kola. Not to show off, but I'm in a band. Just me and my friend Nils. And the name of our band (if you could call two people a band) is Kozmanaut (see, very clever.) We walked off, into the backstage area. We were feeling pretty good about the festival later, which is when we heard some news on the radio nearby. Nothing like international problems to put a damper on everything.  
"Another two Swedish civilians were killed today in riots over a disputed territory in Sweden."  
Strana Listyev. That was the place in Sweden. The place where all those Russians in Sweden lived. Recently, there had been a huge drive for independence there, and a lot of trouble was going down in Sweden. Strana Listyev wanted independence, the Swedish government on the other hand, wanted to stop that at all costs (apparently there's quite a lot of oil there?) Not that I know much about it, but Nils, being Swedish, was really affected by it. The news reports went on, detailing the riots in Sweden and the clashes with the police there. Nils eventually shut the radio off. Probably for the best, it wasn't like we could do anything about the situation over there.  
"I really hate hearing about it," Nils said, looking down at the floor, "And I hate them, what they're doing to us."  
"What they're doing to you?" I said, "By doing what? Wanting independence?"  
Nils shot a look at me which told me to be quiet.  
"Alright alright," I said, "I won't get in an argument with you over it, jeez..."  
"Good," Nils said, "After all, the festival is tomorrow."  
"Right, let's focus on happy things instead. We have to be ready for that festival!"  
That was the Upgrade Festival, one of the biggest festivals in the UK. I could hardly believe we had been offered a slot there. Usually only big names would get a place. And tomorrow was the big day.  
  


* * *

  
It was finally the day of the Upgrade Festival. The festival went well, in fact the audience seemed to love it, which was a relief. Although there were some people in the crowd waving a strange flag. After we came off the stage, Nils told me that was the flag of Strana Listyev. Or Listberg, as the Swedes call it. But why were they there? Was it because Nils is Swedish, or some other reason? Well, nothing we could do about that. The situation in Sweden was definitely escalating, though. Nils says that the Strana Listyev Liberation Army is real scary stuff. Reading into the issue a little more, it looked like he was right.  
  


* * *

  
A few days later and I was reading the reviews of Upgrade on social media (even though Nils always says I should never search for myself on there) and there were mostly positive. That was when Nils came over. I shut the laptop so he couldn't see I was reading about Kozmanaut on the internet, because of course he would disapprove.  
"Hey, Kozma, can I talk to you for a moment?" Nils said.  
Oh, that usually meant something bad.  
"Uh, ok," I said, "What is it?"  
"I've been talking to the British broadcaster..."  
"Ok..."  
"Well, the discussion was pretty interesting. So," Nils said as he sat down next to me, "What do you think about the two of us going to Eurosong?"  
What? Was he kidding?  
"Eurosong?" I said, "Are you serious? Representing the UK?"  
"No," Nils beamed, "San Marino."  
"What?" I yell, "Bloody San Marino?"  
Nils laughed.  
"No, not San Marino," Nils said, "I'm kidding. Of course we're representing the UK."  
Not that it really made much difference. In fact, I couldn't think of anything worse than representing any country in Eurosong. The contest had had a pretty bad reputation over here for years, although it did seem like that was slowly changing.  
"Come on," Nils said, "It'll be real fun. It's the most watched event in the world, you know."  
Well, when he puts it like that... besides, if it went badly we could just pretend it never happened.  
"Well, I'll think about it."  
"Is that a yes?"  
"It's an 'I'll think about it.'"  
"That's a yes, isn't it?" Nils grinned.  
"Where is it being held this year?" I ask, "Are we going somewhere nice?"  
"Serbia," Nils waited to see my reaction and laughed, "Haha, just kidding. It's in Germany this year, they won last year, didn't you watch it? Mia Fischer won for them, she had a great song too."  
"Oh," I vaguely remember seeing something about that on the news last year.  
"I'll take that as a yes! To the Eurosong Song Contest we go!"  
"It's not actually called that is it?"  
"Yeah, it is, ESC for short."  
"But... why would they put song twice? That makes no sense!"  
"Uh... huh... I never really thought about that before..."  
"Nonsense contest," I said, but when I saw Nils hurt expression I added, "But we'll go if that's what'll make you happy."  
A big grin appeared on Nils' faces.  
"Oh, it sure will!" he beamed.  
Oh great, what the hell had I just signed up for?


	2. Chapter 2

It was later that day when Nils took me to see a new friend of his. He sure was dressed fancy, but like, how fancy people dressed back in the 80s.  
"Hello. The name's Panikos, Panikos Angelos," he said, "I'm representing Cyprus later this year in Eurosong."  
It hadn't even really sunk in yet that we were going to be Eurosong contestants and already Nils is friends with one of the other entrants?  
"Oh hey Panikos," Nils smiled, "So, this guy is here for his concert in the UK later this week, and all the Eurosong fans are going to be there. He wants to know if we'll be an opening act for him?"  
"Well-" I began.  
"It'll just be a short thing," Panikos said, "There's a couple of other Eurosong acts coming along as well who happened to be in the UK too. It'll be nice to make it a real Eurosong event."  
I looked over at Nils who looked really excited for this. How could I deny him that? Plus, it was literally happening in this city, so it wasn't like it would be a huge effort to show up and play a couple of our songs.  
"Alright, sounds good to me," I said. Again I had agreed to do something for Nils' sake.  
"Excellent!" Panikos smiled, "You guys won't regret it, it'll be awesome!"  
So it was settled that we would show up at his concert. This would be our first Eurosong-related event.  
  


* * *

  
"We don't even have our song yet," I said to Nils as soon as Panikos had left.  
"That doesn't matter," he replied, "The deadline isn't until March anyway."  
"March? It's February now!"  
"Well, it's the end of March and right now it's the beginning of February. That's almost two months. Look, it'll be fine, plus we have loads of material hanging around in our vault, and some of it's really good in my opinion."  
"You do have a point, I wonder which one of those would be the most suitable for Eurosong, or if we should just make a new song altogether?"  
"We'll go through it later and decide. Oh, I'm so excited Kosma, are you excited?"  
"Yeah..." I say sarcastically, "So excited."  
  


* * *

  
The way Nils keeps organising these things though, first Eurosong, now a Eurosong concert... he had never done anything like this before. He never does surprises without telling me and he's horrible at keeping secrets. This was so unlike him. He must really be committed to this competition thing. Soon enough it was time for the Eurosong concert with Panikos.  
The concert actually went quite well. Apart from us and the Cypriot, the entrants from Portugal, Sweden, Montenegro, Croatia and Spain were there too. It felt like a proper event. Plus, the other contestants who were there were all actually quite nice people. After the show, fans kept coming up to us and getting selfies, autographs. And this was before we even had our song ready! Looking around, it seemed that the Eurosong fans seemed to really love us. And you know what the weird thing was? I actually quite liked it. Maybe this whole thing wouldn't turn out to be so bad after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Our performance at the concert was big in the Eurofan community, and again, I was trawling through social media. But there was another thing that was dominating the headlines. Something far more serious than our little song competition. Something far more sinister. It was impossible to escape it. Again, it was the dispute in Sweden with Strana Listyev (or Listberg, as the Swedes called it.) There was a huge rumour a few weeks back that Sweden were about to give in and give Strana Listyev their independence as they wanted, even though there was oil there. Sweden were prepared to give it all up for the sake of peace. But then something awful happened. The armed militants in Strana Listyev made a huge mistake, they shot up a school in Sweden. It was an absolute massacre, they killed a lot of people, a lot of children. No one could support Strana Listyev after that, even people who had initially been supportive of their independence, like me. After that, the Swedish government had to harden their stance. Scrolling through the news, it was all about the issue in Sweden. It was as if there wasn't anything else going on in the world, it was all about Strana Listyev. I didn't see any more than that, I had to close the tab. People were sharing videos of the Listyev shooting in that school, and I didn't want to see that. They filmed it all. That was one of the ways they made money. One was holding people hostage and then demanding ransom, and their other source of income was murdering people while filming, and then selling the footage to criminals on a place called 'the dark web.'  
A lot of the time those videos would leak onto the normal web as well. That just made it all the more terrifying when Strana Listyev announced they would expand their terrorist activities outside of Sweden.  
  


* * *

  
Even Eurosong couldn't escape this mess. The entrant for Norway, Vladimir Ivanov, was, as you might have guessed from his name, not from Norway at all, but actually from Strana Listyev itself. There were huge protests in Norway to change their entrant, to someone Norwegian or at least someone not from Strana Listyev, but the Norwegian broadcaster stood firm. To be fair to Vladimir, it was nothing to do with him, he just happened to be born there. He wasn't one of the people we met back at that concert, but he was just a musician like us. It must really suck to be associated with people like that.  
"Not reading about Strana Listyev again, Kozma?" Nils had come up behind me and somehow, I hadn't noticed him, "Come on, we have important work to do. Eurosong-related work. We can't change what's happening in Sweden or in Lindberg. Come on, Eurosong is soon, and preparing will help us forget about all this."  
He was right though, I was spending quite a bit of time reading about them, and it was all miserable and depressing news. I'd probably be happier if I switched off all the stories about them, and concentrated on positive things, like Eurosong and interacting with the fan community. We had already been interviewed by quite a few Eurosong fansites, which had gone rather well (if I do say so myself.) Yes, that was it. It was time to focus on positive things.  
  


* * *

  
Back in February it felt like forever away, but soon enough it was May. Time for me and Nils to go to Germany for Eurosong. The British broadcaster promised that it would be a trip of a lifetime, something we would never forget. They weren't wrong. We had picked out our song, a new song we had written specifically for Eurosong, called 'London Tower,' which actually had a very positive reception from the Eurosong fan community. There were a lot of people who loved it, and we were now fifth favourites in the betting odds. The closer it got to the contest, the more excited I actually became. I really started to look forward to it. The Eurosong community was winning me over. And I loved every second of it.  
Soon the day came. The day we would be going to Germany for Eurosong Week. There was actually a lot more that went into the contest than you would think by just watching it every year. There were rehearsals, jury rehearsals, semi-finals (the UK however, doesn't need to take part in the semi-finals because of the money we pay to Eurosong, but we would still be there for those since they were going to interview us during one of them.)  
"Kozma Kola, Nils Andersson." Our names were called to get onto the flight. This was it. No turning back now.


	4. Chapter 4

The flight went by quickly, and after a few twists and turns in the middle of Berlin (seriously, is the layout of that city a mess or what?), we made it to the hotel, where all of the entrants would be staying. Most of the other entrants were here already, and some of them had already been rehearsing (although the rehearsal videos are supposed to be secret, an unknown person had leaked the videos this time, so we got a close look at the competition.) As we walked into the main foyer, we saw a man standing there. There was Spain's entrant, Pedro Perez. (See, I did actually do my research on this year's competitors.) We had actually already met him as he was one of the acts back at the Cyprus concert.  
"Ah, hello again," Pedro said, "Welcome to Eurosong 2022!"  
Pedro had been to Eurosong for Spain three times over the years, and this was his fourth appearence here. A real veteran of the event. I secretly hoped Nils didn't expect us to be like that. Although, on the other hand, this event was really raising our image. And we did have fans all across Europe now. That was pretty mental. In a good way, of course.  
"Hey Pedro!" Nils said.  
"Nils!" Pedro said, "Kozma! Great to see you two again!"  
"You too Pedro," I grinned. Suddenly, a woman walked over to us.  
"This way please," she said. We followed her to the reception desk. That was Amelie... uh, for some reason I can't quite recall her surname, but she is the German entrant for this year. (I believe she just goes by Amelie?) She was a complete unknown, only appearing on the German music scene this year in fact, and not a lot is known about her. Maybe she prefers to stay anonymous? Or at least, relatively anonymous. The other entrants have pages and pages of information on the Eurosong website, but Amelie, she has two sentences.  
After we finished signing in with reception, we looked over to see another entrant. That was Russia's entrant, Stanislav Kaplinski. I could see Nils shooting him a really angry look. That wasn't really fair, in my opinion. The Russian Eurosong entrant didn't have anything to do with what was going on in Sweden.  
"Great," I said, "Just what we need. Stop it Nils, stop causing problems."  
"I didn't say anything," Nils shrugged.  
"I saw that look," I said, "How about you guys just get over it already."  
"Oh boy," Nils said, rolling his eyes at me, "Get over it? You think I didn't catch you giving that evil look of yours to the Serbian entrant, huh? Why don't you get over it? You're such a bloody hypocrite sometimes, Kozma."  
"Oh, whatever Nils."  
"Hey hey everyone," it was Amalia Miranda, the Portuguese entrant (not to be confused with Amelie, the German entrant), "You two look like you're being far too serious. This is a song contest, have fun!"  
"Oh hey again Amalia," Nils grinned, we had of course, already met her as well back at Panikos's concert back in February, "Long time no see."  
"Hey Nils, hey Kozma," Amalia said, "Great to see you again. You guys rock!"  
"Thank you," I said, "Yours is really nice too."  
Her song was what Portugal were best at, a beautiful ballad in the Portuguese language.  
Looking over we saw the two lovebirds in the corner of the room. That was the Swedish duo, Elias and Elsa Andersson. They were the only other duo in the contest this year, and in fact I was pretty sure they were actually husband and wife. They certainly acted like it, anyway.  
"Get a room, you two," Pedro said and laughed to himself.  
Suddenly, we were interrupted by the door crashing open. That was Montenegro's entrant, Zlatko Petrovic, another one who we had met back at the concert.  
"Zlatko!" Nils said, but then we saw that Zlatko looked a bit worried.  
"Guys," Zlatko said, "The official site of Eurosong has been attacked..."  
Well, sucks for them, but didn't really matter for us, right?  
"So... so what?" I said, "Does that really matter?"  
"W-well, they're threatening an attack on the contest," Zlatko said.  
Oh. Great. Just when this day couldn't get any worse.  
"What?" Nils said, "Who?"  
But he already knew who. We all did.  
"Strana Listyev," Zlatko said.  
I bloody knew it. Of course, of course we couldn't just have our little song contest in peace.   
"Don't worry about it," Panikos said, "Please don't worry. The German broadcaster has put all sorts of security in place, look at all the guards outside. We're safer in here than anywhere else."  
That sounded good but I wasn't sure I believed it. Silence in the room. We looked over at the Russian entrant, who just turned away. Of course. And it didn't look like Norway's entrant was even here yet.  
Pedro had already opened the website.  
"Oh, that's a threat, alright," Pedro said, looking down at his phone, "Look at this. Jesus. They have pictures of all the entrants and we have targets photoshopped onto our heads. But uh, Eurosong has never been attacked before, so I think we'll be okay! This is the biggest event in Europe."  
That's right, this was the biggest event in Europe. So of course we'd be a target. How did the thought not even cross my mind, not even when I was reading about Strana Listyev online? But that wasn't fair! We signed up for a song contest, not World War Three. Strana Listyev better stay the hell away. We don't want them here.

* * *

"Get out of my way, you are all in my way," that was the entrant from Azerbaijan, Ruslan Sarkarov. His father, Eldar Sarkarov, a wealthy oil baron, is the richest man in a world. Rumour had it that's why Ruslan was the Azeri entrant. He wasn't exactly talented, the song itself had been penned by Swedes and he had provided no input at all, and although the studio version of his track sounded flawless, at the rehearsals it was revealed that he couldn't actually sing live. He couldn't dance either. Overall, it was terrible. But I wouldn't have minded if it wasn't for his nasty, arrogant attitude to all the other competitors, who he had recently been insulting on the internet. Especially the Armenian, Tigran Kandarian, who he was especially harsh with (apparently Azerbaijan and Armenia have some sort of issue?)  
He pushed people out of the way, even though we were all gathered around Zlatko and Pedro who were showing us the defaced Eurosong website. This was a direct threat on the contest. And still, Ruslan didn't care. Why would he? There's a guy who has never had to worry about anything in his entire life. I'm sure his rich father would just shower him with money any time he had a problem. He had no idea what the real world was actually like.


	5. Chapter 5

The days dragged on. The organisers of the event promised they would ramp up the security for us, which sounded reassuring. The website was back to normal, but still, news websites were rife with speculation. Would there be an attack on Eurosong this year? It was horrible to even think about. And there we were, right in the middle of it. Some countries apparently considered withdrawing, but ultimately, no one did.  
  


* * *

  
Me and Nils had our little friend group, which was Zlatko, Panikos, Dora (all of whom we had met at the concert) and for me, Albanian entrant Jete Dervishi as well. We have long conversations in Albanian into the night, and even better, other people didn't know what the hell we were saying. Nils was very close to the two Swedes, who were very nice people, and actually one of the favourite acts to win the whole contest. But it wasn't all smooth sailing. The threats from Strana Listyev were causing huge problems. People on social media were talking about a theoretical attack on the contest, which didn't really help me when I stumbled across those posts. Just looking at people talking about it was scary stuff. I didn't want to have to go through that for real.  
  


* * *

  
Meanwhile, there were smaller problems too. Things weren't as peaceful in the hotel as I thought. Maybe it was just the threat of an attack weighing down on everyone, or perhaps it was something else. Maybe having so many people from so many different countries all concentrated together wasn't such a great idea after all.  
Nils was having some issues with the Russian entrant, and it wasn't like I could take the moral high ground on this, as I was having some trouble with the Serbian entrant, Dragan Draganovic (stage name: Dragan Dragan) for well... obvious geopolitical reasons. I'd also been told by the Spanish entrant that his father is a huge war criminal, one that I'd heard a lot of horrible stories about. Man, I wished we were back at that Cyprus concert, things were so great back then. It seemed like I hardly had any problems back then.  
"Bloody Dragan," I ranted to Nils, "So annoying."  
"You uh," Nils said, "Still having problems with Dragan, huh. Did he even say anything to you? Cause, uh, if he did, then I didn't see it."  
"Yeah he did," I said, "You know the problems we have with those guys.  
"You know Zlatko's actually from Serbia too, right? He ain't from Montenegro?"  
"Oh shit, really? Or are you joking with me?"  
"Yes, he is," Nils said, "Just look at Wikipedia."  
Well, that's... uh.  
"Nothing to say, huh?" Nils said, "Yeah, I'm gonna make you get over your thing with Serbia, we're going to have world peace. Like our Eurovision song says."  
(Note: Our Eurovision song is definitely not about world peace! He's talking about the Swedish entry, which is.)  
"Pfft, whatever," I say, rolling my eyes, "We're going to make you 'get over' your little thing with the Russians first."  
Nils didn't say anything to that. Thinking back over my words, maybe I shouldn't have brought it up. It just came out like that. There had been another huge attack in Sweden today by Strana Listyev, this time in a shopping mall. They had also executed Danish tourists by burning them alive for one of their videos.  
"Uh... sorry," I stammered, "I shouldn't have-"  
"It's ok," Nils said, "It's alright, I know you didn't mean it like that."  
  


* * *

But I had to go and bring it up the next time I saw Zlatko. I mean really, he never thought to tell me that? He didn't think that was important?  
"Zlatko," I said the next time I saw him, "I thought you were from Montenegro. Are you actually from bloody Serbia?"  
"Oh, y-yeah," he said.  
I didn't say anything.  
"I'm sorry," Zlatko said, "I thought you knew that already. Because you know so much about all the entrants."  
I sighed. I could see this was going nowhere. Zlatko was way too soft for this crap, it wasn't like with Dragan where you could yell at him and he'd yell back.  
"It's alright," I said, "Forget I said anything."  
That was when the Croatian entrant walked over to us. Dora Duric. She was another one we had met back at the Cyprus concert.  
"Dora!" Zlatko said.  
"Oh, look who it is," I smiled, "Dora the Explorer."  
"I still have no idea why you call me that," she said as she sat down next to us.  
"Haha, it's, uh, hard to explain," I said, "It's a kids show."  
"Hm?" Dora laughed, "Aren't you a little too old to be watching children's shows, Kozma?"  
"Wha- I mean, I don't watch it," I said, "You really don't know who Dora the Explorer is?"  
"No. Of course not. There is only one Dora and that's me of course," she winked.  
  


* * *

"Oh jeez," Nils said, later that day, "Sorry, I shouldn't have told you that. Now you're mad at Zlatko, and mad at me, and-"  
"I'm not mad at you, Nils," I shrugged, "Or Zlatko either, I guess."  
"I just think," Nils said, "I don't know, you should get over the whole Serbia thing, maybe?"  
"Get over what?" I asked, "History?"  
"Yes. Do you know why there's so many problems in the Balkans compared to in Sweden?" Nils asked.  
The Bosnian entrant, Senad Markovic, overheard us.  
"There isn't," Senad said.  
Of course there isn't. Strana Listyev was one of the biggest problems any country had ever faced. The Balkans were relatively peaceful nowadays. Nils must have been thinking of the old Sweden, the Sweden that still existed when he moved to the UK all those years ago. Not the Sweden that exists now. Nils said nothing and looked down at the floor.   
Damn.  
  


* * *

It was later that day when I saw Zlatko again. Me and Nils were on the way to the stadium for one of our rehearsals, when we saw him rushing the other way.  
"Look, Zlatko, about before," I said, but he stopped me.  
"Doesn't matter," Zlatko said, "They think they've found a bomb in the stadium. Come on. Let's get out of here."  
"What?" Nils asked, "Really?"  
"Yeah, stadium just got evacuated," Zlatko said, "Don't go in, they have the bomb squad in there right now."  
Sitting in the hotel later, everyone felt uneasy. The German police surrounded the stadium and the hotel. The news channels were flooded with video of the Eurosong stadium surrounded by police.  
In fact, the suspicious package left at the stadium turned out not to be a bomb after all. But the threat by Strana Listyev had made the people working on Eurosong paranoid and fearful, which was understandable. So, we were safe once again. But it left everyone on edge.  
  


* * *

  
Somehow, the two semi-finals passed by without any incidents, which was incredible because we were very worried. It was finally the night of the final. Everything had gone well. Even our song went well, even though I was nervous as hell and pretty sure that Nils was too. Not just for our performance, but the possibility of an attack.  
The hosts of the event, Stefan and Bianca, interviewed the two Swedes in the green room. It was between them and Italy, and it looked like Sweden was going to come out on top. Azerbaijan were somehow in third despite a shockingly bad performance (even worse than his performance in the semi-final, where I was equally shocked to see him qualify.) Rumours around vote rigging had been flying around since the Azeri qualification. I'm too much of a professional to comment on that, but I think it's clear for everyone to see that they definitely rigged it. I mean, all that oil money has to go somewhere right? Gotta use it on something. No one would actually vote for that, it had to be bought.  
Anyway, we were nearly at the end of the show. Only one country was left to give out their votes.  
"United Kingdom," Stefan said, "Can we have your votes please?"  
Of course. We were the last ones, and since we couldn't give points to ourselves, that meant our score of 105 would be our final score. Still, we had come in fifth place, this was the best that the UK had done in ages. We had done really well, all things considered. (And you know, since Azerbaijan were definitely rigging, I mean technically we were fourth.)  
The UK gave 10 to Italy, but 12 to Sweden, putting Sweden on top, and making them the winners. Italy had come second, but they had come second the past three contests as well (I'm becoming quite a Eurosong fan, as you can tell from my facts.)  
"Congratulations!" Stefan said to the two Swedes, who were brimming with happiness.  
"Thank you," Elias said, "Thank you so much!"  
"And, we have some great news," Elsa smiled, "I'm pregnant! We're having a baby boy!"  
The audience cheered, louder than ever before. Sweden could be happy, despite all the problems they were going through, they had won the contest. Of course, that would mean some people would accuse Sweden of receiving a sympathy vote, but I'm pretty sure this was a well deserved victory. Sweden had a beautiful song.  
Looking at the bottom of the scoreboard, a different story was being told. Russia, second-to-last, with a measly 12 points, but even worse was Norway, in last place, with zero points. I wasn't quite sure how they qualified from the semi-finals, but I guess it didn't matter. What mattered was that we had got through Eurosong. We had made it. There would be no attack by Strana Listyev, thank God. As Elias and Elsa performed their winning song 'Världsfred' (Translation: World Peace), a soppy but beautiful song, I was so happy that we had done well. And so thankful that nothing bad had happened during the event.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, see those trigger warnings at the top? This is the last chapter before all that stuff goes down so, if you'd like, you can stop reading here and pretend that this is where the story ends ;)


	6. Chapter 6

It was a couple of days later. The German broadcaster had invited all of us Eurosong entrants to... something? I wasn't quite sure what was happening. But we were all invited and this would be our last outing together as the Eurosong contestants, so we might as well make the most of it. We followed Amelie through this forest for what seemed like hours.  
"This is the right way, right?" I asked.  
"Oh, this is the right way, alright," Amelie said in a bored sounding tone, "We're nearly there, look."  
There was a building there. Amelie unlocked the door and lead us all inside.  
No one was inside. There was just us. This was getting weird.  
We all stood there for a few moments, and uneasy feeling falling across the room. Why the hell did we follow her here? What was even happening? The room was incredibly large though, although it only had one window, and the glass looked really thick (maybe it was bulletproof glass or something?) There were also taps on the walls, a lot of taps, and a lot of buckets lying around as well. This place was really strange.  
"Hey," it was Evalina Russo, the entrant for San Marino, "Look at this weird room over here."  
In the huge room we were in, was a giant metal door, leading to another, smaller room. In fact, it wasn't really a room at all, it was more like a huge walk-in freezer. Looking inside it showed a giant freezer room. An actual giant freezer, sort of like the kind they have in supermarkets, which was such a strange thing to have. Now, why would that even be here? Maybe this building used to be a restaurant or something like that? That would explain the freezer and possibly all the taps as well. Looking in the freezer from the outisde, nothing was inside but some ice on the walls, and it looked real cold. In fact you could feel it quite a bit just standing in front of it. Evalina walked into the room, which didn't seem like a good idea, but the door was open so she could just walk out again, so no harm done, right?  
"Wow it's cold in here," Evalina said, "This room goes really far back, too."  
"Hey, don't go in there," it was the Czech entrant, Honza Novak, who followed her inside.  
They were literally only in there for a couple of seconds, when suddenly the door slammed shut by itself. No one had even touched the door. Oh shit.  
"Who did that?" Evalina yelled.  
"No one did," Antonio said, "The door just slammed itself, but don't worry, these things have safety measures, we'll just be able to-"  
Antonio pulled at the door handle, but it wouldn't budge.  
"Is it not opening?" Honza said, sounding very worried.  
"Don't worry," Antonio said, "You can probably open it from the inside, try that."  
Evalina tried to push the door open. Nothing. Honza tried pulling it, still nothing. They both tried together. Nothing. We all went to the door handle and tried pulling it together. A few more minutes of pushing and pulling the door. But it just wouldn't budge. Oh fuck.  
"I-it's so cold in here," Honza said, "Please."  
Oh shit. But that's okay, because we can just get Amelie to help, right? We'll just get someone to come and help them, makes sense to me, and Zlatko was obviously thinking the same thing.  
"Amelie," Zlatko said, "We'll have to go back and get help for them. You know the way back so-"  
Amelie didn't say anything. She just turned around to face the door out of the room. At that moment, we could hear crashing outside. That's when they stormed the building. That's when we came face to face with Strana Listyev. Armed militants rushed into the room, holding us at gunpoint, slamming the only door out and locking it. I had never felt terror like this before in my whole life.  
I thought because the final was over we were out of danger. I thought because we got through Eurosong that nothing bad would happen to us. I was wrong. Now we were up shit creek without a paddle. And then it got even worse. Because I recognised one of the militants there. It was the fucking leader of Strana Listyev.  
"My name is Adrik Listyev, do you all know who I am?"  
Some of the entrants cautiously nodded yes. He was the leader of the Strana Listyev Liberation Army, as well as the most wanted man in Europe, and a violent evil terrorist.  
"Please," Zlatko said, "There's people trapped in the freezer, we need to help them."  
I don't think Zlatko knows who Adrik is, because Adrik obviously wouldn't care. Adrik just laughed at that, and then turned to the window of the metal door to look at Evalina and Honza inside, both shivering.  
"Ah, yes," Adrik said, "We were saving that freezer for a fun little game later, but I guess those two have already got the party started. But that's okay, we'll start with a different game instead."  
"Please, let us out!" Evalina yelled and banged on the door. Adrik ignored them.  
It was then that Adrik pointed to two people. The Swedish entrants, Elias and Elsa had been singled out. The two of them were dragged from their seats by the armed men and pushed down to the floor. In the background, I could hear running water. This really wasn't going to end well.  
"Elias," Adrik said, grinning, "So, you made some posts on social media about Strana Listyev, can you tell us about those?"  
Elias's eyes opened wide. Jesus. He must have said something real bad about them. Fuck. I thought through all my social media postings in that moment. Did I ever say anything bad about them? I really hope not.  
"Well?" Adrik said, "Answer the question."  
"P-please," Elias said, "I-I didn't-"  
Adrik ignored him.  
"So, we're going to play a little game," Adrik said, as two men brought a large bucket filled with water into the room.  
"W-what-"  
"A little game, see, I have all your social media posts against Strana Listyev, right here."  
"B-but-"  
"So, here's how it's going to work. I'm going to get my friends here to hold your head under this water, and then I'm going to start reading out your negative rants against Strana Listyev. I will only let you back up for air once I've finished reading all of them. So, if you breathe again or not depends entirely on how nice you've been to us."  
Holy shit. What the fuck. They were actually going to drown him?  
"W-Wait," Elias started yelling now, "Please don't! You can't!"  
Adrik just laughed again. Elias turned to the German entrant to plead with her instead.  
"Amelie..." Elias sobbed, "Amelie please..."  
She turned away.  
"Her name isn't really Amelie," Adrik laughed, "It's Anastasia. Good work Anastasia, it really was something, the way you got them all here."  
Oh shit. This was a fucking trap all along.  
"Anyway, you're just trying to distract me from starting our little game," Adrik said, "I see what you're doing."  
Some of the armed soldiers grabbed Elias and forced his head into the bucket. He tried to wriggle free but it was useless.  
"Let's begin. Strana Listyev has violated Swedish democracy... yet again," Adrik spoke the post slowly, drawing out every word, "They have attacked Swedish citizens, they have tried to destroy our society. There is no such thing as Strana Listyev. The real name is Listberg and it is as much a part of Sweden as Stockholm or Malmo. That is why we need to stop this madness, and unite as Swedes, every one of us. We need to stop them and bring peace to Sweden."  
Elias kept trying to free himself but couldn't. By this point Elias had held his breath for a hell of a lot longer than I thought I could. Maybe that was it. Maybe they'd let him up now? But no, Adrik began reading another one.  
You know those movies where the good guys rush the terrorists and save everyone? Well, real life isn't exactly like that. Everyone stayed frozen where they were. Everyone was too fucking terrified for themselves to do anything, me included. Adrik read out another post, deliberately slowly, he was enjoying this, the evil bastard. Just one thing, I wouldn't let them touch Nils, I swear I won't let them touch Nils. If anything ever happened to him, I-  
Bubbles rose up from the bucket and Elias started thrashing even more wildly than before. Still, the armed soldiers kept his head under.  
"Oh dear," Adrik smirked, "Looks like he couldn't hold his breath anymore and now he is drowning. Oh dear, this is so sad. Anyway, next post."  
"No!" Elsa yelled as she struggled to break free of the armed men holding him back.  
It must have only been a few minutes but it felt like a lot longer. But eventually the bubbles stopped and Elias stopped moving. Adrik read out another, the next post, but I couldn't hear it over the sound of Elsa's screams. They still kept him under as Adrik stood over and watched.  
"Oh dear," Adrik said, "Looks like he has expired. We still couldn't make it to the end of the posts. Bring me the next one."  
Elsa fell to the floor, armed militants still holding her, preventing her from reaching Elias, whose head was still being held in the bucket.  
She screamed. That inhuman scream. Something I will never forget. The scream of someone who was completely broken. Yesterday they were winners. Yesterday they were going to start a family. Yesterday they were happy. Today, he was dead and she was broken.


	7. Chapter 7

"We're going to try this differently with the next Swede, because there's a lot of posts," Adrik smirked, "So, we'll hold her under the water and drown her a little while reading the posts, and then bring her back up a little for air and then repeat. I can't wait to see how long I can drag this one out for."  
He loved describing what he was about to do to his victims. Elsa barely reacted as she just started at Elias, unmoving in the bucket, tears streaming down her face.  
"I-I'm begging you," Elsa sobbed finally, "Let him out, bring him up, let him breathe, please..."  
"Are you stupid?" Adrik laughed, "He's already dead. Now it's your turn."  
I expected them to bring Elias up now, but they didn't. Instead he was left in the water and another bucket full of water was brought over.  
"No..." was all Elsa said, "Please-"  
The militants pushed her head under the water. Adrik read out some more posts as Elsa squirmed in the bucket. Eventually, bubbles rose up and she thrashed around harder, just as Elias before. Unlike with Elias, after a while he brought Elsa back up. She coughed up water and panted for air. While we just sat there, feeling like total shit for not doing anything.  
"See, we can draw this one out longer," Adrik said, "It's so fun."  
And then they put her head back under. They did this five times. The next time they brought her back up, Adrik laughed and waited for what she had to say. But all she did was retch and pant desperately for air.  
"Hmm, nothing to say?" Adrik said, "Well, if you don't have anything to say I suppose I'll put you back under then."  
Elsa's eyes opened wide with fear.  
"Please, no more," Elsa choked out between gasps and coughs, "I'm begging you. Please! Please!"  
Adrik fucking laughed and forced her back under again. It was at this point I noticed one of the gunmen was holding a camera. This was going to become one of their sick murder tapes that they sell. Bastards. Absolute bastards.  
He brought Elsa up again, but only for just enough time for her to get one breath before pushing her back down again. After a couple more times of this, Adrik obviously got bored of his sick 'game'. He pushed her down again and didn't bother bringing her back up, even as she thrashed around in the bucket. Even after she stopped moving.  
Man, I fucking hoped that wasn't what they had in store for us. I hoped they'd just done that to those two, and that the rest of us would be ransomed. I mean, they would pay the ransom right? Fuck, what if they didn't pay it?  
"Another one down," Adrik said, "Oh dear. In all the excitement I forgot to read out all of the posts. So there's still some posts left."  
Adrik turned around, facing us.  
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.  
"You there," he pointed right at me, "Where are you from?"  
When Adrik asks you a question, you better answer.  
"A-Albania."  
Adrik smirked and then pointed at Nils.  
"And him?" Adrik said, "Is he from Albania too?"  
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh fucking shit.  
"Yes," I replied, "He is."  
That seemed like the right thing to say. After all, I couldn't exactly say that he is Swedish.  
"Well?" Adrik said, looking around the room, "Is that true?"  
Silence. Finally, someone else helped.  
"Yes," Zlatko said, "It's true."  
An angry look spread across Adrik's face.  
"Liars," Adrik said, "Absolute fucking liars. Do you morons think I don't know that he's Swedish? He is a Swede, isn't that right, Nils Andersson?"  
Oh fuck. Some militants came over and brought out a third bucket.  
OH FUCK. No. No no no. Not Nils. No no no.  
"W-what-" Nils began, as the militants dragged him to the bucket.  
Oh fuck. I was frozen to the spot. I said I wouldn't let them, I said I wouldn't-  
"Stop! STOP!" I shouted, I don't know where the hell I got the courage from, "I'll go instead, just don't hurt him, please!"  
It felt like everything stopped at that moment.  
"Well," Adrik laughed, "Well well well. Lucky you. Looks like you got yourself a substitute."  
Nils was dragged back to where the other entrants were sitting, surrounded by armed gunmen. That's when they grabbed me, and dragged me over to the bucket.  
Oh shit. Fuck fuck fuck.  
"P-please," I began, but Adrik just laughed again. I knew what was coming next. I took a big breath as they pushed me down into the water. Then. Nothing. I could hear the sound of Adrik reading another post, and I could hear the sound of water. He read a post, and then another. Fuck, let me up already. My lungs ached for air, and begged me to take a breath, but I knew if I did that now I would only be flooded them with water. But I didn't know how much longer I could hold it. I was trying to hear if Adrik was finished, trying to desperately hold my breath...  
I couldn't any longer. I sucked it in, started choking on water. At that moment Adrik pulled me up. I coughed and gasped as that fucking terrorist just laughed.  
"Down again," Adrik said as he pushed me back under. Fuck fuck fuck shit. I don't want to die. Please let me back up. I'm begging you, please. Please, I didn't do anything.  
Just as I was sure I was going to black out, he pulled me back up. Fresh air, I could breathe again.  
Some people say drowning is a peaceful way to die. To those people, I only have one thing to say: Fuck you.  
Adrik laughed again.  
"As much as I would love to see how long you can last, the United Kingdom might actually pay a good ransom for you," Adrik grinned, "We won't deal with Sweden but we will deal with the UK. So you're better for us alive than dead, for now, that is."  
They left me there, panting on the floor, as Adrik laughed. He thought it was the funniest thing in the world. Fucking twat.


	8. Chapter 8

After this, the gunmen left. The only mercy was that they took the bodies of the two Swedes with them, so we didn't have to sit with the dead bodies. I can't imagine a more horrifying sight than sitting with two rotting bodies, bodies of people who were your friends. People who were so sweet. I couldn't help but regret everything in that moment. Why did we agree to come here? Why did I say yes to this competition? We should have been both sitting in London, watching this horror on the news. But here we were. Right in the middle of it.  
"Kozma," Nils said, running over to me, "Are you okay?"  
"I'm fine, I'm fine," I say, getting up off the ground, "Don't worry about me."  
Now that the gunmen were gone we could get our phones out and call for help, right? Except, no one could get a signal, and no one could access the internet.  
"Something's blocking the signal," Pedro sighed.  
"They've probably put something in the walls of the building," Amalia said, "They have this all planned out. Damn it."  
We just sat there for a few minutes in silence. That was when we heard the banging on the freezer. Shit. They were still in there.  
"A-are they gone?" Honza said, both he and Evalina looked like they had been crying.  
"They're gone," I said, "We're going to get you two out of there, okay?"  
"Look, there's a fucking camera in there," Zlatko said, "He's recording that as well."  
Now that was something we hadn't noticed before. A camera in the freezer. He wanted another sick murder tape.  
"N-not if I can stop it," Evalina said, as she weakly kicked the camera down, "H-he doesn't get this."  
We all spent the next hour trying to get that freezer open. Honza and Evalina were getting worse and worse all the time. Freezing to death, I can't even imagine what they were feeling...  
"Evalina?" Honza said, "Evalina?"  
She had collapsed to the floor. Her body was blue, she wasn't moving at all. Honza was still awake and shivering, but I could see he was turning pale too.  
"She... she's not moving," Honza sobbed, trying to prod Evalina awake, "She's... oh god... please... please I don't want to die in here! I d-don't want to die! Please!"  
Honza banged on the door even harder. We tried so hard, we tried and tried and tried, but we couldn't open that fucking door. We couldn't even smash that window in the door, nothing. Eventually, Honza's knocking got quieter, and then, stopped altogether.  
"Is he..." Pedro started.  
"Yes," Amalia said, "He is."  
We still tried to open the freezer door for the next hour, but it was useless. We couldn't open it and now they were both dead. Fuck.  
  


* * *

  
  
"We can't open the freezer door," Dragan said, "Or the main door, but maybe we could open that window? If we can crack the window, we can get out of here. We can get someone to help them-"  
"They're dead, Dragan," Ruslan interrupted.  
Still, it was our only hope to get out of here. We spent all night at that window trying to crack it. Nothing. The one way out of this goddamn room and we couldn't break it.   
We gave up on the window and tried the door next. The huge metal door was locked tight and the entrants gathered around it couldn't get it to open, looks like we'd be stuck here for the night. People started sobbing, screaming, banging on the walls.  
Still, some of us kept trying at the door. We couldn't break it down. We expected Strana Listyev to be back any second, but it didn't happen. Hours passed. Day turned into nightfall. In the quietness, my stomach rumbled loudly. And not just mine. I could hear it every so often, someone's stomach growling. Damn it, I'd missed both lunch and dinner at this point. We had water from the taps, but no food at all. At least we had water, and that truly was something to be thankful for, but damn, I'd never been this hungry before in my entire life.  
Have you ever realised how good you had it before? How privileged you were? I had never, ever gone a whole day without food before.  
The next day went by the same, except there was even less to do as nearly everyone's phone batteries had ran flat. Nothing to do except ignore the constant gnawing in your stomach and ignore that there are two dead bodies still locked in the freezer.  
"What's taking them so long?" Ruslan yelled, "I'm hungry! Isn't anyone looking for us? I am a very important person, you know! My dad is the richest man in the world!"  
I just sighed. I wasn't in the mood for this shit from Ruslan right now.  
Nightfall again.  
It's very hard to sleep on an empty stomach but at least they weren't in here drowning and freezing us. At least there was that. Eventually, we fell asleep. When we woke up, something horrifying was waiting for us outside. We looked out of the window to see they'd hung Elias and Elsa's bodies from the trees. What the fuck.


	9. Chapter 9

It was evening the next day when Adrik returned. They stormed the building yet again.  
"Well, I have good news for two of you!" Adrik said, "Two countries have paid ransom... so, you will come with us. Ukraine. Georgia. You will be set free."  
"What about me!" Ruslan yelled, only to be ignored.  
The Ukrainian and Georgian entrants. I didn't really know either of them. I hadn't expected either of those countries to pay the ransom, although if they had that meant the UK definitely would, right?  
"Before we do so," Adrik added, "You will be handcuffed and your feet tied for... our own protection, of course."  
They were just happy to be told they were leaving. They stood perfectly still as the handcuffs and rope was put on them.  
"Levan Beridze. Artem Glushenko. You will come with me," Adrik lead the two of them outside, and they shuffled after him (they couldn't walk normally with the rope binding their feet together) followed by all of his gunmen and the cameraman. The door was then locked shut again, leaving us all trapped inside, but we could watch from the window.  
"Now now," Adrik said, "This way."  
It would have made more sense for him to speak Russian to them, but you have to remember the third audience as well. Again, a camera was there to record a sick tape, which is probably why Adrik was speaking to them in English, rather than his native Russian. But wait, if it's being recorded, wouldn't that be a murder tape? They didn't record themselves letting people go... wait.  
They stopped as they stood next to the tree that was holding the bodies of the two Swedes up. But something else was there now. A third noose. Oh shit.  
Why was I surprised? Of course we couldn't trust him. We could never trust any of these terrorists.  
"Haha," Adrik said, "I am kidding. Georgia and Ukraine did not pay ransom. But you are enemies of Stana Listyev."  
The Georgian started sobbing and shaking but the Ukrainian didn't really react, and so Adrik repeated himself in Russian. That did it. They were both sobbing and yelling incoherently, struggling to get away but prevented from doing so by the handcuffs and rope. The pulled the third noose down and put it around the Georgian's neck. He struggled and struggled but they got it around his neck. He whimpered as he realised what was about to happen.  
One of the armed men started pulling at the other end of the rope. This wasn't a hanging like they used to use for capital punishment. This wasn't a quick drop snapping your neck, this was a long, drawn out choking to death. The Georgian pulled at the rope and thrashed around, desperately trying to suck in air but the pulling on the rope prevented it. He desperately flung his body around, trying to stop the suffocation, but it was no use. Soon, he stopped moving.  
The Ukrainian sobbed as Adrik turned his attention towards him.  
"Now it's your turn," Adrik said.  
I expected a fourth noose to come down, but no. They pulled out a platform on wheels, and brought it right in front of the window, where we could all see it. On the platform, there was a tall, thin structure. It was a large wooden stake. Oh shit. The Ukrainian threw up as he realised what was about to happen. They were going to burn him alive. He thrashed and struggled as they tied him to the stake, as they poured gasoline on him, but only on his legs, not on his head and upper body. The Ukrainian screamed something in Russian, while desperately thrashing to get free.  
That's when Adrik stepped over and lit the match, throwing it at the Ukrainian.  
I can't even imagine the pain of burning alive. The screams were unreal. He screamed and screamed and screamed. And it kept going. I had never heard a scream like that before. And I never want to hear one like that again.


	10. Chapter 10

And so they were gone again. We were left alone there, to think about what had just happened. We looked around to see who was there, to see which countries would pay ransoms or not. Every Eurosong contestant from this year was here, except for Russia, for obvious reasons, Norway, probably because he was from Strana Listyev, and the Bulgarian, for some reason we couldn't figure out. It became real clear that this had been planned all along. Did the Russian and Norwegian entrants know all along and not say anything? I was pulled from my thoughts by the ransom discussion. The possibility of ransoms being payed dominated everything. It was all anyone talked about, all anyone thought about.  
"Look, we have a chance. We really do. They hate those countries," Pedro said, "Sweden, Ukraine, Georgia.... Strana Listyev hates all of those countries. But if one of our countries paid the ransom, we would actually be let go, right? They don't hate us enough to do that to us."  
"Are you just trying to convince yourself, Pedro?" Amalia said, sounding like she was trying hard not to cry, "We have no idea. We don't know what they'll do."  
That was when the Bosnian entrant burst into tears.  
"Th-they're not going to pay the ransom, are they," Senad said after a while, wiping tears from his eyes, "Bosnia won't pay my ransom. I don't have a chance here."  
"Hey, you don't know what," Zlatko said, "We'll be fine. Don't worry, they'll be out now, looking for us. They'll find us, they have to."  
We sat in silence for a few minutes, the total silence only punched by the occasional groans of the Ukrainian, still tied to the stake outside. Still burning. We didn't want that to be us.  
"You know," Dragan spoke up after a while, "This is not to sound... big-headed or anything, but I'm one of the biggest artists in the Balkans, I'll pay everyone's ransom here."  
Nils shook his head.  
"I don't think you have that kind of money," Nils said, "The amount of money they want, only governments would have it. Last people who were ransomed they wanted $30 million. Each. They didn't get it and they ended up in those murder videos."  
"Oh..." Dragan stared at the floor.  
Ruslan just laughed at that.  
"Of course Dragan does not have that money," Ruslan said, "With $30 million I could buy the whole of Serbia. Luckily, you know me, son of the richest man in the world. I did not know they wanted ransom, but since they do, I have an easy way out of this. Ah, yes, a small price to pay to improve my image greatly. This money is mere peanuts to a wealthy person like me. I will pay for your lives, and you better be grateful for it."  
Bloody hell, fucking arrogant son-of-a-bitch. I wanted to slap the guy. But, since he was probably going to be paying all of our ransoms, I, uh, decided against it.  
"That's very generous of you, Ruslan," I said (I'm such a suck-up sometimes.)  
"Yes," Ruslan said, "I shall pay everyone's ransom. Except for the Armenian."  
Oh. He really had to bring that into it.  
"What?" Tigran yelled, "Why not? Please, I never did anything bad to you!"  
"The existence of Armenia is bad for me," Ruslan said, "Now fuck off."  
Tigran fell down to his knees.  
"Please, please Ruslan," Tigran said.  
Ruslan kicked him away.  
"Get away from me, you filthy Armenian," Ruslan said. But Tigran kept begging and pleading.  
"A-anything," Tigran said, "I'll do anything, please."  
"Shut the fuck up you dog," Ruslan said, kicking Tigran again, "Hey, Eurosong entrants-"  
It felt really fucking jarring hearing the name of that contest, I hadn't thought of the contest at all since this had started.  
"So, if you all want me to commit to paying your ransom," Ruslan continued, "You have to kick this rat away from me."  
A lot of people did actually kick him away. They hit and kicked until Tigran backed away, to the other side of the room. I noted all the people who joined in on that, although none of them were close friends with me and Nils. Tigran whimpered and leaned against the wall. Wow. Ruslan was really going to let him die because of some bullshit political issue. I could see out of the corner of my eye the Polish entrant shaking as well. That was Paramaz Petrosyan, also from Armenia. And yet, representing Poland (I believe he lived there) so, luckily he had a chance of getting out of this mess. Ruslan was arrogant, I bet he didn't even know that about Paramaz (the Azeri juries sure did though, ranking Paramaz second-to-last just above Armenia.) Ruslan didn't know anything about any of the other competitors because the only person he cares about is himself. And we sure as hell weren't going to tell him.  
"Hey," Paramaz said, "I don't think that's fair. He never did anything bad to you, Ruslan."  
"Shut the fuck up you filthy Pole," Ruslan said, "Did I fucking ask for your opinion? No. Now shut up before I change my mind about paying your Polish fucking ransom."  
Zlatko looked like he was about to say something, but decided against it.  
Silence.  
  


* * *

  
It was quiet in the room except for Tigran's quiet sobbing. That's when we heard something else. A voice. We looked outside the window but no one was there, just the dead bodies. That's when we realised. The Ukranian wasn't dead yet. That charred and burned mess tied to the pole outside... somehow there was still a human in there. Somehow he was still alive. It was hard to make out what he was saying, it didn't sound like a human voice at all.  
"Kill me... kill me... please... help... kill me..."  
"Artem!" Nils yelled, "Artem! Can you hear us?"  
"Water... please... it hurts..."  
But we couldn't get to him. He was stuck outside, and we were stuck in here. We still couldn't open or even crack that damn window. Not even a scratch was on it after we had spent hours trying to get it open.  
It was at that moment that the door opened again. Adrik, Amelie (wait, Anastasia) and the gunmen came in once again. I didn't really think I could stand up at this point and not fall over again, so I stayed sitting. A lot of people seemed to feel the same. Adrik seemed a little annoyed by the lack of reaction. That's when he turned to Anastasia.  
"Anastasia," Adrik said, before giving her a long kiss, "My beautiful sister."  
Of course, he was into incest as well, because why the fuck not on top of everything else.  
Adrik then shot a look at Zlatko.  
"Zlatko," Adrik said, "We have reviewed our footage and it seems you told the two in the freezer about our lovely camera, and one of them destroyed it. Oh dear."  
"O-oh, I-I'm sorry, I-"  
"Be quiet," Adrik said, "Did I ask you to speak? No, I did not. Luckily, we had another hidden camera in there, so we could still complete the video. Unfortunately it meant the last part of the video was only taken from one angle, but it's still perfectly usable. However, I won't put up with our cameras being ruined. I will deal with you later."  
Zlatko didn't say anything and just sat there with his head in his hands.  
"Okay," Adrik said, "I haven't gotten any real plans for today, but I'm sure we can think up another fun game. So-"  
It was then that Ruslan proudly told Strana Listyev that he would be paying the ransoms for everyone, except for the Armenian. Only someone as arrogant as Ruslan would interrupt Europe's most wanted terrorist while he was speaking.  
"Oh, so you will pay the ransom money?" Adrik said.  
"Yes," Ruslan repeated, "Everyone. Except for the Armenian."  
"Ah, then it's really time for a fun game," Adrik said, "I have a great idea for a game now. This is perfect. So which one is the Armenian?"  
Ruslan immediately pointed to where Tigran was, curled up in a ball in the corner.  
"Ruslan, please," Tigran said, shaking. The gunmen tied up his hands and feet, as they had done so to the Georgian and Ukrainian before. This could only mean one thing.  
"So, what should we do first?" Adrik said, "The bucket game? It is one of my favourites, after all."  
"Oh yes please," Ruslan said, "Put him in the bucket. Then we can ramp it up a bit."  
What the fuck. This guy was way too comfortable with torturing people. Was he going to have him killed? Why the hell were Strana Listyev now taking orders from the Azeri entrant? Just because he's rich? Just because he said he'd pay them the ransom money?  
Then I heard it. The sound of running water in the background. As before, the bucket was brought out.  
"Please," Tigran said, "Please, I-"  
He didn't get to finish that sentence, as the gunmen pushed his head under the water. They drowned him in the bucket for a while, every so often bringing him up for some desperate gasps of air before pushing him back down. When they brought him up the next time, one of the gunmen came in holding something.  
"Something new, now," Adrik said, "As much as I love the bucket game, I'm all for trying new things as well. Ruslan, care to try?"  
"I'm interested," Ruslan smiled.  
Looking at it, I didn't understand what it was. There were wires coming out of the machine, and at the end of the wires, were little suckers. At that, Adrik pulled Tigran's shirt off, exposing his shaking body.  
"Wh-what are you doing? Please! Please stop!" Tigran begged, but Adrik was clearly bored of his pleading, and Ruslan took no notice of it. Adrik kicked Tigran hard and grabbed a gag from his pocket and put it on the helpless Armenian. Now he could only make muffled sounds.  
"This is an electric shock machine," Adrik said, "This one has seen quite some use! Lots of dictatorships back in the day used these little things to torture people."  
Adrik then attached the suckers to Tigran's stomach. A muffled cry came from him.  
"Oh, and people beg," Adrik said, "They plead. 'We have human rights!' Stupid idiots. No human has rights. That's reality."  
Tigran was trying to say something, but the gag muffled his words.  
"And they all say the same things," Adrik said, "Every time, it's the exact same. 'Please, don't hurt me, I'll do anything.' Bah. It bores me, you cowards. You're all the same."  
Adrik was handed a remote control by one of the gunmen, who then gave it to Ruslan.  
"So," Adrik said, clearly enjoying this sick game, "You are in complete control, Ruslan. The remote is in your hands, just like his life. Press the red button to deliver an electric shock."  
As soon as the remote was handed to Ruslan, he repeatedly jabbed at the button. The screams that came out, even from the gag...  
Tigran thrashed violently on the floor, even with the restraints binding his hands and feet together. And still Ruslan didn't stop. He continued to jab on the button. After a few minutes of this, the machine began to spark and a small amount of smoke blew from it. Tigran stopped thrashing around so much. Luckily, it looked like the machine had broken.  
"Oh dear, the machine has given up," Adrik said, "Don't worry, it happens, it can be fixed."  
Tigran groaned on the floor, curled up into a ball.  
"So, our little game is drawing to a close. Perhaps it is time to dispatch him," Adrik smirked, "Oh dear. What do you think, dear Ruslan?"  
"Yes. Now, hang him outside," Ruslan grinned. This was so fucking fucked. Ruslan was clearly enjoying this, now he even thinks he is friends with Strana Listyev terrorists? Even if he was paying for everyone's ransom, to just let him do this...  
Adrik smiled and pulled Tigran's gag off.  
"No!" Tigran yelled, "No, please! PLEASE, Ruslan! I'll do anything, please!"  
Ruslan kicked Tigran hard, and then the terrorists dragged him outside. Back to that tree. One of the gunmen pulled on a branch and another noose fell down from the tree. Adrik was still in the building with us, and he could barely contain his laughter.  
"N-no! NO!" Tigran yelled, "I don't want to die, please! Please don't kill me! PLEASE!"  
The pleas of mercy had no effect. They held Tigran in place and threw the noose around his neck as he twisted and struggled.  
"HELP ME! HELP ME PLEASE!" Tigran shouted into the air, "PLEASE! THEY'RE GOING TO KILL ME PLEASE!"  
It was at that moment Ruslan tapped Adrik on the shoulder.  
"Wait, I'm sorry, I've made a mistake, bring him back," Ruslan said.  
"Hmm? Ah, I see," Adrik seemed a little confused but gave the order to have the Armenian brought back into the room. They took the noose off and dragged Tigran back in. Was Ruslan actually going to show mercy? I was surprised but relieved. There had been enough death in here. We didn't need anymore.  
"Wh-what," Tigran said as he was led back into the room, "Please, please..."  
"Ruslan told me to bring you back," Adrik said.  
"Oh god," Tigran said, "Thank you Ruslan. Oh my god, thank you so much. For the bottom of my heart I-"  
Ruslan just laughed. The same nasty, evil laugh that Adrik did.  
"Oh, I'm not sparing you," Ruslan said, "Hanging is too good for you. It's far too quick. Adrik, burn him alive, like you did to the Ukrainian guy."  
Adrik laughed again.  
"WHAT!" Tigran screamed, "PLEASE! PLEASE DON'T!"  
"This is getting better than I thought," Adrik laughed, "What a genius idea, Ruslan. I have another platform ready for the burning."  
Ruslan laughed as Tigran was dragged away again. Another wooden platform on wheels was dragged out, with a wooden stake in the center. Tigran screamed even louder when he saw it.  
"PLEASE HELP ME! PLEASE!" he yelled again, hoping someone, anyone could hear him.  
"No one can hear you," Adrik laughed, "There's just my army and those trapped singers. No one will help you. You will die here. And I will make a lot of money! You won't believe how much they pay me for these videos."  
"NO! PLEASE! PLEASE I'll do anything PLEASE!" Tigran said.  
"Anything?" Adrik said teasingly.  
"Yes, anything! I swear it!"  
"Good, then I want you to burn alive on this platform," Adrik laughed, putting a cigarette up to his mouth.  
"NO! NO PLEASE!"  
"You said anything, after all," Adrik laughed to himself again as the terrorists tied Tigran to the pole. Tigran thrashed around trying to free himself, but it was no use. The gasoline came out again, and was poured on Tigran's legs and feet.  
"PLEASE! I'M BEGGING YOU!" Tigran yelled, "SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE!"  
As the match was brought out by one of the gunmen, the realisation that no one was coming to help him set in. He screamed something in Armenian and thrashed around on the pole.  
"PLEASE DON'T! HAVE MERCY!"  
I expected Adrik to use the cigarette, but he took it from his mouth and pressed it into Tigran's arm, which didn't have any gasoline on it. He yelped in response as he was burned by the used cigarette.  
"Alright," Adrik grinned, "And now for the main attraction."  
The match was thrown. Those horrific screams again.  
As he screamed, Ruslan reached into his pants. He was fucking masturbating. What the fuuuuck. The guy who was paying our ransom was a fucking psychopath, who had no problem with ordering people to die and even getting off on it. What did this even achieve? Did he hope to join fucking Strana Listyev?  
I thought about running, about rushing past them, trying to get to the door, but with armed gunmen everywhere... I knew it wouldn't work. And every time they entered, and every time they left, they always locked the door behind them. Plus I was so weak with hunger I wasn't sure if I would even be able to run that fast. There was no escape, only torture and death. After a while, the gunmen left.  
"Wait," Ruslan shouted after them, "Are you going? I thought you were going to let me go!"  
Ruslan continued to shout after them as the screams continued outside. It felt like the whole world was spinning. A never-ending nightmare that was all too real. This was our new normal?


	11. Chapter 11

It was later that night. Yet another night of sleeping on the cold, hard floor with an empty, rumbling belly. The screams outside were groans now, but that poor bastard was still suffering out there. Suffering because of Ruslan, who everyone was still sucking up to. But if he was going to pay the ransom, then we'd be let go, right? And then he can answer to what he did in court, I'm sure the other entrants would be willing to testify against him too.  
Meanwhile, I looked over at the other entrants. Dora was lying on the floor, shaking violently. Oh no.  
"Dora?" I said, shuffling over to her, "Are you okay? What's wrong?"  
She weakly raised her head.  
"I'm sorry to cause a fuss," she said, "I have diabetes, I need my insulin and I need food, but there is none."  
Jesus. She was diabetic? And she had lasted all this time, she must have secretly been going through hell.  
"What?" Nils said, "Why didn't you say anything?"  
"Everyone was so scared," Dora said, "I couldn't bother you... I didn't want to say anything, there's nothing you can do for me. I'm done. I'm sorry."  
It was a couple of hours later and a few of us were sitting with Dora, who was getting worse.  
"Dora-" I began.  
"The explorer," she finished, smiling weakly in my direction.   
That was when Zlatko walked over holding what looked like a slightly bent chocolate bar.  
"Hey," Zlatko said, "I found this in my coat. I was going to eat it, but I think you need it way more than I do."  
"Will that help?" I asked.  
"Yes," Dora said, "My blood sugar is really low, I can feel it. Thank you Zlatko, thank you so much. I know everyone is hungry so it means a lot to me that you-"  
"What the fuck, I should get that chocolate bar!" Ruslan yelled as he ran straight towards Zlatko.  
Oh great, Ruslan was awake. Ruslan charged right at him and snatched the chocolate bar right out of his hands.  
"No!" I yelled, "Dora needs it! Don't you understand that?"  
He quickly unpeeled it and chomped down on the bar, running away from me as I ran after him. Eventually, I caught up.  
SMACK. I smacked him hard across the face and he fell down to the ground. He just laughed as he stood up.  
"Not paying your ransom anymore, Kozma," Ruslan grinned.  
What. Oh fuck I didn't think of that.  
"So," Ruslan said, "Ok guys, hold him down or I won't be paying your ransoms either. Hold his friend Nils as well."  
And they fucking did. The other entrants grabbed me and held me down because they wanted Ruslan to pay their ransom. I looked over and saw Dora still lying on the floor as Ruslan finished the rest of the chocolate bar.  
"Alright, I said to hold the other one as well," Ruslan pointed to Nils, "Stop him from doing anything to stop this."  
They held him as well.  
"What are you doing?" Nils yelled.  
"Now, for the bucket," Ruslan said, filling up a bucket with water and placing it next to me. Oh for fuck sake. Not this shit again. No no no.   
"You'll know about this one, Kozma," Ruslan laughed.  
That was when Zlatko walked over and kicked the bucket, spilling all the water onto the floor.  
"No, okay," Zlatko said, "We're not going to be like them, we're not going to be like Strana Listyev. Stop this. We're not like them."  
"Thanks," I said, as Ruslan walked right up to me.  
"You know what happened to that Armenian rat will happen to you too, right?" Ruslan smirked, "You'll fucking burn, and you too Zlatko."  
"P-please," Zlatko said, "We didn't-"  
"Can you imagine the pain you will feel as you are burned alive, Kozma?" Ruslan said, "The fire burning your flesh... can you imagine this? Soon you will feel it for real."  
Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. Ruslan then laughed.  
"But, you are not Armenian," Ruslan said, "So there is a way out for you."  
"A way out?" I asked.  
"Yes," Ruslan said, "I will put the both of you back on my list. But Kozma, you have to do one little thing for me first."  
What happened next I couldn't believe. Ruslan dropped his pants and underwear to reveal his below-average sized penis. When he said 'little thing' he really wasn't kidding. Ruslan then came closer to me. Oh for fuck sake.  
"So," Ruslan said, "As I said, if you want me to add you back on my list, then you must do something for me. I'll offer you a chance to make it up to me. In Azerbaijan I have lines of women waiting to please my gigantic monster cock, but here I have been left without sexual release. I will add you back onto my list, but you must suck my cock to my satisfaction first."  
What.  
What the fuck.  
What the actual fuck.  
But it beat literally being burned alive, so I got down on my hands and knees. And I sucked his cock.  
"That's it," Ruslan said as I continued sucking, "Mmmmm, oh yes."  
I was vaguely aware of the other contestants watching me, and part of me felt ashamed. The other part of me was sucking that small shaft like my life depended on it, because, well, it did.  
After a while, he came into my mouth. It tasted, well, I hadn't tasted anything in a while, but it tasted quite salty.  
"Mmmm, yeah," Ruslan said, "You like that, don't you? That's what a man with power tastes like. That's what a real man tastes like."  
Ruslan then pulled out of my mouth, thoroughly spent. Well, what can I say. I've had better.


	12. Chapter 12

It was a few hours later now. A few hours to have what had just happened sink in. The fucking absolute humiliation of having them all see that, the absolute burning shame of it. Everyone saw it. I hadn't even managed to get that chocolate bar to give to Dora, who was still lying on the floor, which is why the whole thing had started.  
"Hey," Nils said, sensing my embarassment, "You have nothing to be ashamed of. You did what you had to, to survive. You are the bravest person I know, Kozma."  
  


* * *

  
It was three days later when Adrik returned. Zlatko estimated we've been trapped in here for seven days now. A whole week trapped in here, and still no one had found us. Where were the German police? Anyone? How could no one have heard the screaming outside when those poor people were being burnt alive?  
Dora was still with us, but barely. I was really scared she wouldn't make it another day.  
I was taken from my thoughts by Adrik, who marched into the middle of our little group.  
Ruslan immediately went over to him.  
"I said I'd pay," Ruslan said, "I already said I'd pay! Let us go. You can't leave us in here!"  
Adrik ignored him.  
"Hey," Zlatko said, "Dora is diabetic, she needs insulin and she needs something to eat. She's very sick. Please."  
Adrik turned away and shrugged.  
"Please, I need food right now," Ruslan said, "We're starving in here!"  
"Ah, something you must not be used to. I heard your father is the richest man in the world," Adrik said, grabbing Ruslan by the arm.  
"Fuck off," Ruslan said, pulling his arm away, "Don't touch me. Why haven't we been let free yet? I'm paying all the ransom money you want."  
Adrik didn't look angry, but smiled. He was going to use this as an excuse to do something bad to him. But honestly, after all the bullshit he's pulled, he deserved it.  
"Oh dear," Adrik said, "Oh dear."  
Ruslan realised his mistake. Ruslan must have thought he Adrik would leave him alone after he allowed him to torture Tigran, but he was wrong.  
"S-sorry-" he began but Adrik continued speaking.  
"See, if you're going to speak to us like that, with shit coming out of your mouth," Adrik said, the camera trained on him, "Then we will force it right back into you."  
The gunmen then grabbed Ruslan, forced him down onto the floor and tied his hands together with rope, and then did the same with his feet. Now he couldn't really move properly at all, just squirm around on the floor. This must have been a pretty big crash down to Earth for the son of the world's richest man. It was then that Adrik left the room for a few moments. When he came back, I couldn't believe what he was holding.  
"Look at you squirming," Adrik said, "Like a little worm. Time for supper, worm."  
The gunmen unlocked the door to allow Adrik out. Adrik left and shortly returned. He brought with him a plate of rancid shit. An actual dinner plate, with a literal pile of shit on it. The smell was awful, and we weren't even as close to it as Ruslan was. Ruslan just looked at it with a horrified expression on his face.  
"See, we have a big, beautiful dog here with us in these woods," Adrik said, "Her name is Svetlana. Unfortunately she has a lot of large... well, excrement, to be putting it politely. Here is a reasonably sized portion of that."  
What the absolute fuck is going on? Ruslan didn't seem to know either, he just looked at Adrik, not saying anything.  
"You're going to be eating that," Adrik laughed, "You wanted food, so here it is. Something to fill your empty stomach. Dog shit. Bon appetit."  
"Wh-what-" Ruslan struggled to find the right words, "B-but... do you know who my father is? H-he's very p-powerful... he-"  
"Shut up," Adrik said, kicking Ruslan in the stomach, "I don't care about that. We'll talk about that later. Right now I don't care. I care about you using ungodly language in my precense. So, talk shit, eat shit. I think that's how that saying goes. Hey, some people pay good money for this."  
Adrik laughed again.  
"I- I- I'm so sorry," Ruslan sobbed, "I-I-I-won't do it again, I p-promise..."  
"Hurry up and get eating," Adrik said, "I am losing my patience."  
Ruslan looked around the room, his eyes pleading for someone to help him, but only finding silence. Adrik was growing inpatient. The gunmen pointed their weapons at Ruslan, and motioned for him to hurry up and do the nasty deed. Ruslan leant down, and just sticking his tongue out, he touched the poop. He recoiled in horror as soon as the shit touched his tongue. He knelt on the floor, retching. Trying to lick the floor to at least wipe some of the poop off his tongue.  
"Oh dear," Adrik said, "That won't do at all. See, you have to eat all that shit. And if you dare throw it back up, then I'll make you eat the shitty vomit too."  
"N-no, please-"  
The gunmen grabbed Ruslan and tied up his arms and legs, despite his resistance. After everything, honestly he deserved it. If it had been any of the others, I would have felt sorry for him. But not this guy. Sorry, not sorry. Bastard. Not after what you did to Tigran. Now eat shit.  
"I have a special technique if someone resists," Adrik said, "Believe me, I've made a lot of these videos. People just can't get enough of them."  
Ruslan tried to squirm away as Adrik took a spoon out of his pocket and then scooped up some of the shit.  
"If you act like a baby then I shall feed you like a baby," Adrik smirked, holding the spoon closer to Ruslan. Ruslan turned his head away, not opening his mouth, even with all the guns trained on him.  
"Oh, I have a trick for this too," Adrik said, as he took his other hand and pinched Ruslan's nose closed.  
"As you'll know," Adrik said, "From that time you ordered Tigran's drowning, eventually, you'll need to breathe, and when you do I'll put this spoon in your mouth. And you will taste the shit."  
Ruslan's eyes widened in horror. Eventually, he opened his mouth to draw breath, and when he did, Adrik shoved the spoon into Ruslan's mouth. His gloved hand then covered his mouth while another militant held his head so that he couldn't open his jaw. Adrik pulled the spoon out, and it came out, without most of the shit on it, that was still in Ruslan's mouth. Ruslan frantically tried to move and tried to say something, but with his mouth being held shut, he couldn't get that shit out of his mouth. Except for one way. Down.  
"Well?" Adrik said, "Swallow. I'm not going to move my hand away until you swallow your meal."  
Ruslan swallowed it, looking like he was about to throw up, but couldn't, due to Adrik and the others stopping him from doing so.  
I can't even imagine how nasty that must have tasted, but by the twisted expression on Ruslan's face, it must have been absolutely fucking awful. The scene repeated itself over and over. Adrik would scoop up a spoonful of shit, and shove it into Ruslan's mouth and then hold his mouth closed until he swallowed. Occasionally Ruslan would try to throw up, but every time he did so, Adrik would hold his mouth shut, so he had to swallow the vomit back down.  
"Please," he said after he swallowed the fifth or sixth mouthful, "Water, I need water."  
"Nope," Adrik said, "You don't get water, but you get something else."  
Adrik then pulled Ruslan over to... THAT corner of the room. Oh, I should explain. I'd glossed over this. Obviously, people need to pee and poop when they need that, and we were trapped in here with nowhere else to do it. So... this was the nasty corner of the room where one of the many buckets was used so people could piss and poop into it, although, with the total lack of food, there wasn't much poop there. We stayed away from that corner of the room at all other times, but the smell was starting to spread. It was a nasty, foul bucket filled with piss and small bits of poop. Ruslan fell to the floor and retched.  
"Look at this," Adrik said, "Something else for you to eat."  
"You can't do this to me," Ruslan wailed between retches, "Please! I'm paying all the ransoms!"  
"Oh dear," Adrik mocked, "I just don't care. Anyway, not this bucket yet. I have more dog shit for you to eat."  
"No, please," Ruslan said, "Please stop, I thought we were friends!"  
"Friends?" Adrik laughed, "Friends? Why the hell would we do that? We were just playing a fun game back then. I just wanted to see how truly depraved you are. And the answer is very. It made for a good video. But, we're not friends. Now you're making an even better video. So many people enjoy this... content."  
Ruslan looked into the bucket, almost full to the top with urine.  
"Actually, there's a lot of piss in here," Adrik said, "It almost fills up the entire bucket. Well, you wanted water, you've got it."  
Ruslan yelped in fear as he realised what was about to happen. He was going to be drowned in piss. Adrik then pushed Ruslan's head under the water.  
"This is very interesting," Adrik laughed, "Sure is a whole new take on the bucket game, that's for sure."  
Bubbles rose up as Ruslan thrashed around.  
"He is literally drowning in piss and shit right now, everyone," Adrik laughed, probably to the cameraman, "Thanks for the toilet, it's very useful."  
Then he pulled Ruslan back up, as he coughed up the piss from his lungs. He tried to rub at his eyes, the urine obviously stinging them, but his hands were still tied, so he couldn't quite reach them. Ruslan tried to sit up, but then fell to the floor and vomited all over himself and the floor.  
"Oh dear," Adrik said, "Now you have to eat that up as well."  
"Please!" Ruslan yelled, still coughing, "My dad is the richest man in the world! Please!"  
"Oh dear, I don't care," Adrik said, "So anyway, let's bring out the next game."  
They brought out a giant dildo. Oh great. Sex stuff now as well because why the fuck not.  
"They pay real good money for these types of videos," Adrik smiled as Ruslan shivered on the floor. The giant dildo must have been extremely huge to him (we've already talked about how under-endowed he is.)  
The militants then slathered some sort of juice all over it. Looking around, I could see the bottle on the floor. Tabasco sauce. I know that stuff is hot to eat, but I had no idea if it burned skin or not. If it did, it would surely be worse on the sensitive skin inside.  
"This next one isn't a deadly game," Adrik said, "But it is fun. For me, anyway. For you, not so much. It's a very new and interesting idea. A request from my friends on the dark web. The Tabasco dildo."  
"Wh-wha-"   
"Do you even know what Tabasco sauce is?" Adrik said, "Do you even have that in Azerbaijan?"  
Ruslan said nothing.  
"It's a very hot sauce," Adrik said, "Incredibly hot. Imagine just how hot it will be inserted into your anus? Just imagine the burning pain. The unbearable agony as I penetrate you with a tabasco covered dildo?"  
Ruslan whimpered.  
"You didn't think we were friends, Ruslan," Adrik said, "You thought you were better than me. But the truth is, the fans of our videos have been holding votes on the dark web. They have been voting for who should be tortured next. And they all hate you, Ruslan. You have been consistently voted the most unlikable. Hey, Kozmo or whatever your name is, they love you a lot."  
Adrik turned to me and it jolted me right back to reality.  
"But don't get too excited," Adrik laughed, "Sometimes they vote for the ones they like the most to receive torture, as well. Very unpredictable bunch, but I love 'em for it!"  
I shivered at that.  
"Anyway, back to Ruslan," Adrik smirked, "Time to shove this incredibly hot dildo inside you."  
They pulled down his pants and underwear despite Ruslan's resistance. They couldn't completely remove them, due to his feet being tied up, but they pulled them down far enough to expose his anus. Adrik laughed and then and roughly inserted the dildo, not caring if it hurt him or not.  
"OH MY FUCKING GOD," Ruslan screamed, "IT BURNS! IT FUCKING BURNS!"  
"Weird," Adrik laughed, "I think Tigran said something similar. Maybe you two weren't so different after all."  
Ruslan just screamed and thrashed around, the restraints around his hands and feet stopping him from actually going anywhere.  
"Ah yes," Adrik said, "Time to shove it in a little deeper now."  
"NOOOOOO!" Ruslan yelled as the burning dildo was pushed deeper into his rectum. Deeper and deeper it went, I was surprised by just how far it managed to go. All the while Ruslan was sceaming. Eventually, Adrik had his fill, and pulled the spicy dildo out. Ruslan whimpered and collapsed to the floor.  
"But..." he cried, "The ransom! I'm-"  
"You see," Adrik interrupted, "We forgot to tell you the rules of the game, but we have a tape to show you. You see, our agents were in Baku, and we kidnapped your father. Everything you ordered happen to the Armenian, happened to him as well in Baku. We then spent the next few days preparing the tape, so we could reveal it to you and get your reaction."  
"Wh-wha- wha-"  
"See," Adrik grinned, "That's the real game."  
A projector was brought into the room by the militants, and it projected onto the wall.  
"Alright, play the tape," Adrik laughed, "This next tape is great. We were paid so much for it. Awesome to watch after watching the Tigran tape too."  
The video started. It was his father, Eldar Sarkarov, the de facto ruler of Azerbaijan and richest man in the world. He was hardly ever seen on video, and yet here he was. It was a far cry from his usual image. Here, he was tied up, weak, sobbing, and surrounded by terrorists who were pointing guns at him. It was like a hostage video.  
"You see," Adrik continued, "When we explained the rules of the game to your father, well, he broke down crying. Boo hoo, so sad."  
Ruslan didn't say anything, he just continued to watch the screen, tears rolling down his face.  
"See," Adrik explained, "Your father taught you to hate Armenians, so he would know exactly what you'd do. Oh, this is so fun to watch, isn't it?"  
Ruslan threw up again and Adrik forced his head up to look at the screen.  
The militants then grabbed Eldar and forced his head into a bucket of water, pulling him up several times, just as had been done to Tigran. Eldar came up panting and coughing. Again and again and again. The richest man in the world was being drowned by terrorists. Next came the electric shocks. They put the wires onto Eldar's stomach, just like it had been done to Tigran. Next, the screaming. The loud, inhuman screaming.  
"Oh, this is the really fun part," Adrik laughed, "See, this is done in real time. So, every time you pressed that button on the electric shock machine, it not only shocked Tigran, but your father as well."  
Eldar jerked around and screamed as the wires kept giving him painful electric shocks. Finally, they put the noose around Eldar's neck as he cried out in fear.  
"Oh, this is the best part," Adrik said, "We almost hung him! But we all know what happens next..."  
"No," Ruslan cried out, "NO!"  
The video cut to a different scene. Now they were outside, and Eldar was tied to a wooden stake.  
"NO!" Ruslan screamed again.  
"See, because of your cruelty," Adrik said, "Instead of a relatively quick death by hanging, he got the slow and painful death of burning alive. And you could have spared him from death at any time by sparing Tigran. Boo hoo. So sad."  
The tape ended. Adrik laughed as Ruslan sobbed from both the pain and from watching his father's death tape.  
"Because you swore at me, I have something else, too," Adrik said, as some militants walked into the room holding a red hot poker iron. It was a branding iron, the tip being the letter A. Of course, A for Adrik.  
Ruslan was just sobbing on the floor.  
"Now you are going to be branded as my property."  
His pants were still down, so one of the militants walked over to Ruslan and simply pushed the red hot poker into the flesh of his butt. Ruslan screamed and thrashed.  
"Stop that," Adrik said, "You're only making it worse. If my brand is worse because of your squirming, I'll have them brand you again!"  
When they pulled the poker away, that big A mark was there on his skin. They then grabbed two pairs of handcuffs, shackled one pair around his hands, and shackled the other pair around his feet. He was already being held by the rope, but I guess they wanted something more difficult to get off. They then took out a pair of scissors and cut off his clothes, except for his underwear. (I guess they still cared about modesty after literally raping someone with a dildo?)  
That was when Adrik laughed again.  
"But you see, I'm not done," Adrik said, "There's more in store for you, Ruslan."


	13. Chapter 13

Adrik then walked over to where we were standing.  
The Polish entrant, Paramaz, was singled out by Adrik and dragged over to where Ruslan was lying on the floor. Paramaz started shaking, the poor guy looked terrified.  
"Now, here is the Polish entrant, Paramaz Petrosyan," Adrik laughed, "Not actually Polish, but, oh dear, Armenian. Just the way you like it, isn't it, Ruslan?"  
"Y-you are fucking Armenian?" Ruslan yelled. Fucking hell. Even after being forced to eat shit, branded, and raped with a tabasco-covered dildo, he still cares about that?  
"S-sorry," was all Paramaz could say, "I-"  
"No no no," Adrik said, "Don't be sorry. I'll give you a chance to decide how we kill this bastard. If it's good, I'll take it."  
"No," Paramaz said, "Don't do it. There's been enough death and suffering here already today."  
"Oh, Paramaz," Adrik said, "Such a cool name you have for such a boring person. You're so boring."  
Paramaz looked at the floor and said nothing.  
"But that's okay," Adrik said, "Because the dark web users have voted for a really interesting punishment for Ruslan, which is far better than anything you could come up with. Even I was impressed when I heard it."  
Militants came in with a large glass box. They placed it in a corner of the room (the picked the shit-corner but they moved the bucket first), They then picked up Ruslan, and lay him down in the box.  
"So uh, when the dark web people suggested the whole eating poop thing, they were quite concerned that you would drink loads of water afterwards to get the taste out of your mouth. And they want you to savour the taste of that foul shit."  
Ruslan whimpered.  
"But uh," Adrik had to contain his glee for the next part, "That piss you drank when you were breathing it in was actually the last drink you will ever have in your whole life. See, you're going to be locked in this glass cage. And you are going to die of thirst."  
Ruslan screamed and tried to flail around as the lid of the cage was closed and then locked tight. Adrik then pointed to something. On the top of the glass cage was a little pump.   
"Now, I know what you're thinking. What about oxygen? But see that pump? That puts air into the cage," Adrik said, "We've timed it. You will definitely die of thirst before you start to suffocate, I think. Is that right?"  
Adrik turned to the militants, some of whom nodded. Next the militants brought out some sort of plastic looking cloth. It was a thick gag, but made of plastic, rather than cloth.  
"This is an interesting gag, actually," Adrik said, "Because it doesn't prevent you from talking much. We will be able to hear everything you say. It's just to prevent you from drinking up your own urine, if you are even able to do so with your hands and feet tied. The dark web users really want to see someone dying of thirst in real time. They want to see all the stages. Slow and painful. I hope you still have the taste of shit in your mouth, it'll be the last thing you ever taste."  
Ruslan sobbed as the militants left. It was another night on the floor for us. Some people went over to see if they could get the glass cage open, but just like everything else in this damn room, it was locked tight.  
Ruslan cried and threw up all night. We couldn't see the vomit, but we could hear him vomiting. Since the plastic gag stopped the vomit from going anywhere, he had to swallow it back down again. Jesus. Hell, he's a horrible twat but even I felt a little sorry for him.  
Then Paramaz walked over, as if to remind us of all the horrible stuff Ruslan did.  
"How could you do it?" Paramaz said as Ruslan lay in the tank, "How could you? I would have never done that to you! Tigran would never have done that to you!"  
"Fuck off, Armenian scum," Ruslan said as he tried to turn his body to face the other way but couldn't do so.  
  


* * *

  
In all that had happened we had forgotten about Dora completely. Holy shit. I rushed over to where she was, to find Senad and Zlatko already standing by her.  
"Dora?" Zlatko said, bending down to feel a pulse.  
"She's not breathing," Senad said, "Oh God."  
At some point during all that mess with Ruslan, Dora had died. She'd fucking died. Jesus. Dora was a good person. She didn't deserve that. In one way she was lucky. She wouldn't have to endure any more of this hell. She couldn't be tortured by that madman. I tried to think about that, but I kept thinking about the chocolate bar. If that bastard Ruslan hadn't stole it, would she still be with us? Considering everything that was happening, would she even want to be still with us?  
  


* * *

  
We thought we would get a few days without them coming. But the next morning they were back again.  
"Rise and shine, sleepyheads!" Adrik laughed as militants came back into the room once again. Fuck. This meant more torture bullshit.  
"We've had another vote on the dark web," Adrik said, "Oh, this is much more fun than deciding myself. I love a good surprise. I mean, who doesn't? Ok, next up is the Greek entrant, Maria Konstantinou."  
Oh. She was someone I hadn't really talked to at all during my time at the contest. I didn't really know what she even looked like. All I knew was that the only person she talked to was the Cypriot entrant, Panikos. The militants clearly did know who she was, however, as they grabbed the Greek woman and pushed her to where Adrik said.  
"N-no," was all she said and then started speaking in Greek. Ah, she couldn't speak English. That must have been why I hadn't spoken to her, we literally wouldn't have been able to speak to each other.  
"English motherfucker," Adrik laughed, "Do you speak it? My audience does."  
Maria just started babbling in Greek, and then started crying.  
"She hasn't done much, and she didn't do so well in the contest, but she is a very sexy lady," Adrik said, "And so, naturally, the dark web users have begun to take an interest in her."  
Another glass cage had been brought into the room.  
"So," Adrik continued, "Here is another cage. This one without the air pump. Can you imagine the pain of being locked in an airtight glass cage, that then becomes your coffin? The oxygen slowly depletes, your aching lungs trying to get precious oxygen but only getting poisonous carbon dioxide? CO2 flooding your body as your brain frantically sends signals of suffocation? The slow and excruciating death? Speaking of the word excruciating, that word comes from the word crucifixion, something we might explore later, if enough voters want it."  
Adrik then turned and winked to the camera. He was getting more and more comfortable being the host of these sick videos. Maria, not understanding, didn't react to Adrik's words. Adrik sighed.  
"I give that beautiful description and you give me nothing in return? Learn English!" Adrik said, before dragging Panikos out of the crowd and over to Maria.  
"Here is the Cypriot entrant, Panikos," Adrik said, "Panikos, you are going to explain to Maria what I just said. Or else."  
He said those last two words with malice. Panikos turned to Maria and spoke to her in Greek. Maria started screaming, and soon as she did, the militants grabbed her and stripped off all her clothes.  
"The dark web users have specified that they would like you to be naked for this particular game," Adrik said, "Oh wait, I forgot you can't understand me. Oh well, whatever."  
Next they tied her hands and feet together with rope. She was then placed in her cage.  
"The air in this cage without the pump will last for... around 30 minutes. So we can wait here and watch as she slowly suffocates to death. A lot quicker than Ruslan will take."  
It was at that moment that we heard tapping on the other glass cage.  
"Ah, speaking of Ruslan," Adrik laughed.  
"Please," Ruslan said, tied up in the glass box, his voice croaking, "Please. I need water. Please."  
Adrik then went over and filled a bucket to the top with water, then put it right outside Ruslan's glass cage. Ruslan pressed his face against the glass.  
"There," Adrik said, "You can see it, but you can't have it."  
"N-no, please, I'm so thirsty," Ruslan's voice was scratchy and hoarse. He had been a whole day and a half without any water at this point. He must have been desperately thirsty.  
The minutes dragged by. Maria cried in the tank as Adrik stood by and laughed. That was when I noticed something in the corner of two glass cages. Another fucking camera. Everything was being done for those sick fucks online.  
Maria's eyes opened wide in horror. It was starting. Maria opened her mouth wider and gasped, as if she couldn't breathe. Her chest rising and falling, but the surrounding air was useless, there wasn't enough oxygen. Her breathing became rapid. She put her hands to her throat as if she was choking, she tried to kick against the wall of the tank with her bound feet. Eventually, she started shaking, as the cameraman just zoomed in on her trembling body. Soon, she lost consciousness.  
"Another one down," Adrik smiled into the camera, "Sexy stuff. I give this death my 12 points!"  
Soon, Adrik left again, leaving us alone with the two glass cages, one holding a dead person, the other holding a dying person.  
Make it stop. Make it stop. Just make it fucking stop. We can't take anymore of this.


	14. Chapter 14

The next day when Adrik came, he brought some small loaves of bread. They must have been freshly cooked, because you could smell them as soon as the door opened. God, I needed some of that. Militants held us down as Adrik walked into the center of the room, to explain the 'rules'.  
"I want to continue having fun with you all," Adrik smiled, "But you are growing weak. Therefore it would be a shame if you all expired from starvation before I could have my fun with you. Here I have loaves of bread, presented to you here on a table. Here's the catch, you gotta come up here and get it. There simply isn't enough for everyone. Now fight!"  
I rushed over, but wasn't quick enough. I got trampled in the stampede and ending up backing out of it, falling to the floor. Nils saw what had hapened and rushed over to me.  
"No, go get something to eat," I said to him, "You need it, I'm fine."  
"Hey, I'll stay with you," Nils said, "I'm not going to leave you, Koz."  
"Don't be an idiot," I said, "Go over there and get some."  
But it was too late. The others had eaten their bread. By the time we made it over to the table again after the rush of people had cleared, there was nothing left.  
Then the gunmen left, as usual. We were getting used to it by now. A few minutes later and everyone went to bed. Somehow they went to sleep really quickly, which had never happened before. Everyone, it seemed, except for me and Nils. Nothing keeps you awake like the smell of fresh bread when you didn't get to have any.  
When all the others were asleep, I felt someone tapping on me.  
"Shhh," Zlatko said, "Surprise, I saw you two didn't get any so I got some for you."  
I looked to see Nils was already awake, munching on a piece of bread.  
Zlatko had a bunch for me as well. There was no butter, and it was dry, but I hungrily ate all of it. And that was when Zlatko fell over. Something wasn't right. He sat up, hand on his head.  
"You alright, mate?" Nils said.  
"I'm not feeling so good now," Zlatko said, "I-"  
He didn't finish that sentence, he fell to the floor, unconscious. Oh shit.  
"Zlatko?" I said.  
"Someone help!" Nils yelled, but the others were all still asleep.  
Looking around, none of the others woke up. Even with all of the shouting and yelling, none of them had woken up. Oh shit, was there something in that bread? Were they not really asleep? Had they all fainted too?  
Me and Nils spent the next hour trying to wake the others, before we started feeling dizzy. Everything started spinning.  
I woke up, the sun shining through the only window. When I moved I heard chains rattling. I looked down. My feet were now in chains. I could still freely move my hands, but I certainly wouldn't be able to do any running. Looking around, everyone else had their feet chained too. Damn it, that's why they fed us. To knock us out so they could do this.  
"I'm sorry," Zlatko said, "They must have put something in the bread..."  
"Hey, it's alright," I said, "You were helping us."  
That's when I heard his voice. He was here.  
"Now then," Adrik said, "You're all finally waking up. I have another game for you today."  
We looked over and saw the dead body of the Italian entrant, Antonio. He had been shot to death.  
"Poor Antonio," Adrik laughed, "He clearly didn't get any bread, and so didn't get knocked out for long enough. So when we came into the room, he stood up and we just had to shoot him! Luckily, the rest of you got some. We only want the strongest entrants for this next part, so someone who was unable to beat the rush and get any bread is not someone we need for the next and most extreme chapter of this."  
The Portuguese entrant, Amalia, shuffled over to where Antonio's body was.  
"But he did get bread, I don't understand," Amalia said, "He had lots, I helped him get it!"  
"Clearly he didn't get enough," Adrik laughed, "Or perhaps he has a higher tolerance to the drug that we used... oops, not has, I should say HAD. That makes more sense. I mean, he was known drug addict, after all."  
That wasn't exactly true. That was a very unfair way to describe him. He had overcome a horrible drug addiction to become one of the most renowned singers in Italy.  
"In fact, that makes the most sense," Adrik laughed, "If he had bread and didn't get knocked out, it was because of his tolerance. So there's a lesson for you all. Don't do drugs, okay?"  
Amalia held Antonio in her arms.  
"Antonio?" she yelled, holding him, "Antonio?"  
"Antonio Espacito is dead," Adrik said, "Are you stupid? He died hours ago. A fitting death, although far too quick. I am rather more enjoying the drawn out ones."  
Amalia said nothing as she hugged Antonio's body.  
"You didn't hear the gunshots or the screams from that one," Adrik said, "Which is too bad. You guys were out cold! But don't worry, we have a video of the event and it's now circulating as we speak. So, let's move on to the next one. I know you guys can't get international news... or any news really... from in here, but man oh man, shit is really kicking off right now in Armenia and Azerbaijan right now. Riots, border clashes, you name it! All because of my special videos. Those videos were really something! Probably my best work yet if I do say so myself."  
Paramaz looked down at the floor.  
"But," Adrik continued, "There's more. We have been paid a great deal of money by Palestinian terror ogranisations to do something special with the Israeli entrant. Uri Peretz. Bring him forward."  
Uri was dragged out of the crowd by militants.  
"A-Adrik, don't do this," Uri said, "Please."  
Adrik slapped him hard across the face.  
"Did I say you could refer to me by name, worm?" Adrik said, as Uri held his hand up to his stinging face, "I did not!"  
Another glass tank was brought into the room, as the militants tied Uri's hands together.  
"So," Adrik said, turning to the camera, "This week in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, a Palestinian family were 'accidently' buried by a bulldozer which dropped two tons of soil onto them. This next game we call 'buried alive.'"  
"W-what does that have to do with me?" Uri said, "I-I wasn't even there, I-"  
Adrik slapped him again.  
"Did I ask you to speak?" Adrik said.  
"N-no, p-please-"  
He slapped him again. Uri was placed into the tank, lying on the floor. Some men with shovels came in, and others came in dragging in huge buckets filled with soil.  
"See," Adrik said, "Every action has an equal and opposite reaction."  
Like torturing someone who had nothing to do with whatever you were mad about?  
The militants began to fill the tank with soil, as Uri tried to move away from it. Soon he was nearly completely buried, just his face was exposed.  
"Nearly there," Adrik laughed.  
"I-it's so heavy," Uri panted, "On my chest. I can't breathe, I-"  
"Are you stupid or something?" Adrik said, "That's the whole point. Now to finish this."  
They continued throwing soil into the box. He coughed up soil. He kept begging them to stop. Of course they didn't listen. Evil people never do.  
It was weird, how detached you became from this shit. Every time they came in was just you praying silently, hoping that you wouldn't be the one chosen. It was sick that I felt relief every time it wasn't me. But I knew the others felt the same.  
They kept going, putting in more and more soil. The soil was still moving, and muffled noises from from it. He was still alive under there.  
"And now, the pièce de résistance," Adrik said, as he poured some sort of liquid onto the soil. The cage was then wheeled outside, although it took them a long time due to the weight of it. It was put by that tree. That god damn tree. That was when the match was lit. And the soil ignited.  
"Gasoline," Adrik said, "My favourite."  
The tank burned outside. Burning, choking, drowning, it was just the same shit over and over again. Adrik then walked back into the room.  
"We are running out of entrants," Adrik laughed, "At least now your legs are tied, so now all you can do is shuffle around the room. We are almost at the end of this. Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear."  
And then, as usual, they left. There weren't many of us left in here now. The German police needed to find us soon. We were running out of time and we knew it.


	15. Chapter 15

I lay on the floor thinking about the gunmen of Strana Listyev. Why were they following all this nasty torture and dark web shit? Didn't they just want independence? Why were they so happy to go along with this? It didn't make sense to me at all. But then, terrorists never do.  
It was later that night when the door was opened again.  
"So," Adrik said as he walked in, "Now we're going to do something a little different."  
The militants came over to us and grabbed one of the entrants. It was Jete Dervishi. Albanian Eurosong entrant. No no no. Not Jete.  
"Hey, don't hurt her!" I yelled out as she got dragged away.  
"Of course I won't," Adrik grinned as militants brought a table and some chairs into the room. Adrik motioned for Jete to sit down, so she did.   
"Jete," Adrik smirked, "Beautiful Jete..."  
Adrik then motioned for the militants to hold the rest of us down.  
"I can't have any of you trying to rush up and get the special food I've made for Jete. This is just for her," Adrik said, and I could see Jete's face twist in fear. What was it? Horrible dog shit? Some other horrific thing?  
But no, they brought in plate after place of delicious looking (and smelling) food. Setting it down in front of her. She started eating straight away. What the fuck was happening? Had Adrik actually taken a liking to the Albanian entrant? Since I was her friend, could she then help us? All I knew was that it was painful watching her eat all that while the last thing I'd had to eat was that dry bread two days ago.  
"Oh dear," Adrik said, "A little rude to just start eating straight away while we're on our date, but I understand."  
After Jete was finished, Adrik pulled up another chair that the armed men had given to him and sat next to Jete on the table.  
What the hell was even happening. This was so unlike him. Maybe it was just a trick to make her feel at ease. Maybe he had something horrible in store for her.  
"Jete," Adrik said as Jete smiled, "You were born in Kosovo, weren't you?"  
"Yes," Jete replied, still chewing the last mouthful of the food, "In Prishtina."  
"And your parents, they were sadly killed, weren't they?" Adrik said, sounding very insencere.  
"They were."  
Jete looked down at the floor.  
"Yes, I read about it," Adrik said, "They were brutally murdered by the Serbian war criminal, Ratko Draganovic. Is that so?"  
"Yes, it is."  
Fucking rich of Adrik to talk about being a brutal murderer. And rich for him to talk about being a war criminal as well. But I suppose he'd know all about it, being both of those things. Ratko Draganovic, though, was a name every Albanian knew. He had been in charge of the Serbian army at the time, and had done terrible things in the name of it. Wait, that last name was familiar...  
"Dragan Dragan is the biggest artist in Serbia," Adrik said, "He set up his own studio... using money his father had plundered from war crimes. His father Ratko Draganovic is still free to this day. The Hague let him go."  
Oh, man. We had been in Eurosong with his damn son this whole time?  
I looked over and saw Jete's hands balled into fists, and an angry look came across her face. Oh for fuck sake. He was pulling us into this shit like he did with Azerbaijan and Armenia.  
"That's his fucking son?" she yelled.  
"He is. Dragan Draganovic has directly profited from the murder of your parents," Adrik said, "It's true that property was taken from them by Ratko, and given to Dragan. It's true that Ratko Draganovic committed war crimes. It's also true that Dragan has defended his father on many occasions, and denied the war crimes. To this day, Ratko is a huge hero in Serbia, and Dragan is their most beloved singer."  
Dragan had sunk back into the crowd, trying to hide behind the other entrants. But the militants pulled him out, and made him shuffle over to the table.  
"S-stop!" he yelled as they dragged him over, "It's not like that! Please!"  
"Shut up!" Adrik said as he slapped him. Dragan fell to the floor.  
"W-wait, Jete-"  
"Your disgusting dad killed my parents," Jete said, "And you fucking deny it."  
Adrik looked over at Jete.  
"Well, we're going to have our own little Hague trial, right here." Adrik said, "Finally, you will receive justice for what happened to your parents."  
"That rat," Jete said, "If I'd known who he was I would have done something about him long before we ever got stuck here."  
"Good," Adrik said, looking over to the cameraman, "Now then, tie him up. We have a special glass tank ready for him now."  
The militants brought the tank in. The floor of this tank was made of metal, but the walls were glass. Probably so we (and the 'audience' of his videos) could see what was going on. Dragan was placed into it, lying down.  
"Maybe Zlatko would be a good one to do next," Adrik laughed.  
I yelled out in Albanian that I would never forgive her if she did that, and she shot me a look of disgust.  
"Do you know who his relative is, Jete?" Adrik said, ignoring me.  
"No, I don't," Jete said.  
"Dejan Petrovic," Adrik said, "Another war criminal."  
Oh shit. Really? Zlatko looked down and said nothing. At that moment Adrik took a remote control out of his pocket. I knew where this was going.  
"First," Adrik said, "The electric shock. That's always a good one to start with."  
With the Azeri, they had the electric shock machine hurt his father as well, which had been a weird twist when it was revealed. If I was Jete, I definitely wouldn't push that button in case they had any of my family members attached to it. Although, with Jete, I didn't think she had any family. She had told me that they had all been killed in the war. Adrik handed Jete the shock remote, and she pushed the button right away. I thought she would. Jete's a good person, but she's seen so much fucked up shit. All at the hands of that guy's father. She held the button down, and kept it pressed down, delivering a constant electric shock to Dragan. The war criminal's son thrashed around in the cage and screamed, as Jete kept her finger on that button.  
"That's enough," I yelled out to her in Albanian but she didn't take her finger off the button.  
"It's never enough," came the reply.  
An uncomfortably long time passed, and Jete still had her finger on the button, Dragan still screaming in the cage. Adrik didn't seem to grow bored of this. I didn't know how to feel. Of course people shouldn't be blamed for the sins of their fathers, and all that, but...  
It must have been an hour or more when the electric shocks stopped. Not because Jete took her finger off, she didn't, but because the machine simply couldn't take any more. Smoke came up from the floor of the cage. It had broken just like the other electric shock machine.  
"Ah, these things are a little unreliable," Adrik said.  
"No more!" Dragan said, coughing on the smoke, "NO MORE! PLEASE! I'm begging you..."  
He trailed off and sobbed.  
"And now," Adrik said, "The finisher. Look here in the cage. It's a gun, pointed directly at Dragan."  
"Jete!" Dragan sobbed, shaking at the bottom of the cage, "Please! Don't do this!"  
"Fuck you," Jete said as she pushed the trigger. A loud bang filled the room, and smoke flooded the air. When the smoke dissipated, what we saw really shocked us. Jete was lying on the floor, surrounded by a small pool of blood. She looked down at her wounds and then started screaming.  
"You see," Adrik said, turning to us, "Sometimes revenge just goes wrong. Takes a short while for the pain of a gunshot wound to really kick in as well."  
Adrik saw that people looked confused, and seemed pleased that he would get to explain it.  
"You see, the gun pointed at Dragan was fake, there was another, small gun, pointed right at Jete. And she didn't even notice it. Neither did any of you. She was so happy getting her revenge, that she didn't even fucking look properly."  
"Wh-why-" Jete said, looking down at the gunshot wound in her stomach, "N-no, I thought..."  
"Oh? What did you think?" Adrik said.  
"I- I thought you loved me..." Jete replied.  
"Hmm, well you thought wrong," Adrik laughed.  
Jete tried to move closer to Adrik, but Adrik backed away. There had been a rumour that Adrik didn't particularly like the sight of blood. Maybe that's why he preferred the drownings, burnings, electric shocks and other horrible things.  
"Now here's something interesting, take the chains off Dragan," Adrik said and Dragan was brought out of the cage, and the rope and chains were taken off him. He was now the only entrant really free to move around.  
"It will be interesting to watch what Dragan does to Jete now," Adrik said, "You know what they say, like father, like son."  
Adrik passed to Dragan a small sachet of something, I don't know what the hell it was. It was at that moment Adrik and the militants left, but I knew the room must have been rigged with special cameras. They were probably livestreaming everything from his room to those sick fucks. They had engineered this situation and now they were going to get their sick enjoyment from it.


	16. Chapter 16

Jete had Amalia's coat wrapped tightly around her gunshot wound. She couldn't move or it hurt, so we would bring water to her and sit with her, talking to her. Dragan was the only one who could move around without being bound by rope, so I was really worried about what he would do next. Also worrying was the revelation about Zlatko's father. I wasn't surprised at all to learn about Dragan, rumours had been circulating even during the contest, but Zlatko? Are you kidding me?  
"A war criminal!" I said, a few minutes later as I was sitting with Jete and Zlatko, "Really?"  
"Kozma," Zlatko said, "That stuff is alleged, there's no proof. Lots of people are related to alleged 'war criminals' because you can just accuse anyone without any evidence. There's literally no evidence for my father committing any crimes in that war."  
What the hell was I listening to? Of course there was evidence!   
"There is plenty of evidence," I said, "You know that-"  
It was at that moment the Bosnian entrant interrupted us.  
"Who cares?" Senad yelled, waving his hands in the air, "Who the hell fucking cares? People dying here and all you can do is argue about Balkan BULLSHIT?"  
Silence. There wasn't anything I could say to that one.  
"Look, I get it," Senad said, "Really, I get it, I was there too. And people here, people are scared, people are hungry, people are angry... we're not thinking straight right now. But believe me, we have to stick together. This is all we've got."  
It was at that moment that Dragan walked over. Now we could see clearly what he had been given by Adrik. It was a little sachet of salt. At first I was confused, but then I understood. He intended for Dragan to throw it in Jete's gunshot wound.   
"You little-" Dragan began as Zlatko tried to talk him down.  
"Enough!" Senad yelled as he grabbed the salt from Dragan and spilled it onto the floor.  
"You little shit!" Dragan yelled as he kicked Jete hard. Jete yelled as the coat fell loose, spilling blood onto the floor.  
"STOP IT, RIGHT NOW!" Senad yelled, "We will not do Adrik's work for him!"  
"Fucking electrocuted me for hours and I'm not allowed to kick her?" Dragan said, as he kicked her again.  
"Seperate those two, please," Amalia said.  
There wasn't really a way for us to seperate them. All of us had our legs bound by rope except for Dragan. And although we had tried to undo the rope for hours, it seemed impossible to undo. In the end, Dragan went to sit somewhere else, with the Macedonian entrant, Darko.  
"Thanks guys," Jete said weakly, as we put the coat back on her wound.  
The day dragged on, as it always did here. In the evening, we heard Adrik's voice outside the building.  
"Man, we're running out of ideas here," Adrik laughed, "I really think we outdid ourselves with the whole tobasco sauce thing. The audience loved that! Hmmm..."  
The gunmen then said something in Russian to Adrik and he replied in Russian. Then he continued in English, clearly for the cameras. Everything was theatrical with him now, everything was for the cameras, for his sick viewers.  
"We could stuff the Spanish entrant into a giant pinata and beat it, no?" Adrik said loudly, obviously making sure we could hear it, "Imagine the blood seeping out of the beaten pinata? Drop the Cypriot into boiling hot feta cheese? I'd like something thematic. We could drown the British entrants in hot tea but neither of them are actually British. Are you hearing this in there? I hope you are."  
Jesus. I looked around to see Nils, Panikos and Pedro all freaking out just as much as I was. I expected that would be the moment that they entered the building. But no. They left us there again.  
We sat there in the silence. It was quiet. Too quiet. Every night for the past couple of days, you could hear Ruslan tapping on the side of the glass box. The first couple of days, banging, the next few, weak tapping. Tonight there was nothing. He was an asshole to be sure, but he really had suffered here. But so had everyone.  
It was later that night when we heard the door opening again. We woke up from our sleep to see a lone shadow standing there. Anastasia came to the building. She had her gun pointed at us, but she was alone. This could be our only chance to do something. I looked around and it looked like the others were thinking the same thing.  
"Now now," Anastasia said, looking over to the two glass boxes, both containing dead bodies, "Look what we have here."  
BANG  
In the confusion it took me a few seconds to realise what had happened. Anastasia had been shot, and Amalia had been the one to take the gun from her. By looking at the glass boxes, Anastasia had stopped paying attention to us, only for a moment, but it was enough. Amalia kicked Anastasia to the floor.  
"Die, bitch!" Anastasia yelled as she fired the gun again. Anastasia screamed as she was shot again and again.  
Shit. We'd actually done it. We were getting out of here. We were finally getting out of here. Nothing else mattered now. We were going to be free. But when we rushed over to the front door, it was locked. Anastasia had locked the door behind her.  
"Quick, where's the key!" Senad said, rushing back to where Anastasia was, "Where's the key? Where's the fucking key?"  
"Find the key, quick!" Zlatko yelled as we all rushed over to Anastasia, trying to feel through her pockets, anything. Anything for that damn key. It was at that moment that the door burst open once again.  
"ANASTASIA! ANASTASIA!" a voice yelled frantically. It was Adrik. We all backed into the far corner of the room as Adrik burst through the door. All except for one person. Amalia.  
Amalia pointed the gun at Adrik as he just stood there, looking at his dead sister. Then Adrik turned to the Portuguese woman pointing the gun at him. For once, Adrik actually looked scared. But then...  
*click*  
Shit. She'd used all the bullets up. SHIT SHIT SHIT.  
Adrik walked over and punched her, knocking her to the floor. Then he hit and punched and kicked. But then he stopped. He stopped and they left.  
"Tomorrow you will fucking pay," Adrik yelled as we heard the footsteps of the gunmen walking away from the building. Everyone sat there, terrified about what would happen tomorrow. We barely slept that night. We didn't know what would be waiting for us the next day. But we knew it wouldn't be good.


	17. Chapter 17

The gunmen stormed the building again the next day. They were screaming at us in Russian, Adrik looked furious.  
"You are going to pay a big price!" Adrik yelled, his voice cracking, "A big fucking price for killing my precious sister!"  
Amalia was dragged away from us and dropped into the center of the room. That was when she was injected with something.  
"That's adrenaline," Adrik said, "So you don't pass out. The others were for fun. This one is personal."  
What the hell was going to happen to her. I was sitting with the other entrants in the corner of the room, the familiar gunmen all pointing their weapons at us. Adrik then brought out a large metal box with wires coming from it.  
"Similar in appearance to the electric shock machine used on the Armenian, no?" Adrik said, "But not at all similar. This one is more extreme."  
Amalia looked down at the floor and didn't say anything.  
"Well, as you know my sister has unfortunately lost her life," Adrik said, "But her death shall not be in vain. Let me explain how this next machine works. Do you understand how pain works, Amalia? The way the sensation physically works? You will very soon. Nerve fibres, A-delta fibres and C fibres, to be exact, send a message to the spinal cord which then send it to the brain. Which the human body interprets as pain. But, most of the ways in which we inflict extreme pain also kill. What if there was a way to draw this out even longer? What if there was a way to send constant signals to the brain of the most extreme pain ever felt?"  
Amalia looked up at hearing that, but quickly looked down again. Adrik grabbed her hair and pulled it, turning her face towards him.  
"It's untested," Adrik said, "We were going to use it on the leaders of Sweden once we captured them... but after what you did, you are more perfect first test subject."  
At that moment Amalia broke free of Adrik's grasp and ran, ran towards the door, towards freedom. But the gunmen tackled her to the ground.  
"Oh no," Adrik said, "No no no. That won't do at all. You don't get away from this that easily."  
Amalia sobbed quietly as she was dragged back over to the machine. Gunmen held her down as her hands and feet were tied with rope, and the machine was connected to her body. Adrik flicked the switch.  
I'd never heard anything like it. The loudest screams I had ever heard in my whole life. Gunmen surrounded Amalia, guarding her from anyone who would dare attempt to stop this horror.  
"Someone has to hear this," Senad whispered, "Someone must be out there hearing this."  
I doubted it. No one had heard anyone else screaming here. It was time to face facts. This would be ignored like all those other times. Was anyone even looking for us? I doubted it.  
Day turned into night. Amalia was still there, still attached to the machine, still screaming. The screams only stopped for a few seconds each minute when she gasped for air.  
At that moment Adrik pressed another button.  
"It's been fun, but good riddance," Adrik said as he left. That's when the building started shaking. They opened the fridge room. Oh. Some of the gunmen then grabbed us entrants one by one and pushed us into the fridge room, we were all pushed into the giant fridge. Jete screamed as they picked her up and threw her into the fridge. Fucking hell it was cold. The building shook more as Adrik and the gunmen left, leaving us locked in the fridge and Amalia stuck in the main room, still attached to that machine, still screaming. The building shook more and more. It felt like the building was literally sinking into the ground. Was this it? This was our coffin? We'd all freeze to death here?  
"POLIZEI! Hände hoch!!" I still can't believe I heard that over the sound of the screaming. They were here, they were actually here. The German police. Unless this was another cruel trick. I hate that I thought that. The shaking stopped. We heard the sound of people banging against the door. They couldn't get it open. A few minutes later, we heard the sound of a chainsaw, and the door falling to the ground. They were here.  
Another few minutes and we were freed from this frozen hell. I told the police that Jete needed seirous medical attention, and they took her away to a nearby ambulance.  
We were then lead out of the building. Past that tree with the bodies still hanging from it, and the burnt bodies still on the platform. If trees could talk, what would they say? That one had seen just how cruel people can be. Walking through that forest, that damn forest. The forest where no one hears you scream. Or they ignore it. How had it taken this long to rescue us? Beneath my relief, I also felt anger. But there was no time for that right now. Right now, we were finally free.  
The hosts of the event apologised again and again as we walked through the door of the hotel. The executive supervisor of the contest was there too, offering apologies. Being back in the hotel was so strange. After all this time. To be back in the normal world again. But we soon discovered that it was anything but normal.  
The Norwegian entrant, a native of Strana Listyev, had killed himself in the hotel. And the Russian entrant was killed by gunfire when the hotel was stormed by rioters looking for him. The Bulgarian entrant, Miroslav Petrov, had been the sole person to escape from going through our hell. I know he felt guilty about it. It's sad. What happened... it wasn't his fault. He was so lucky.  
And Adrik and his gunmen... they had fled. The German police couldn't find them in the forest.


	18. Chapter 18

We all ended up rushing to that damn food hall in the hotel and basically eating everything. That was the first thing we did. Miroslav stood there awkwardly as we ate all the food we could. When it was all gone, we just ended up sitting there for a while. Sitting in the hotel with the others was so strange. Out of 27 entrants, only 12 of us had made it back alive. Only 11 of us were there, with Jete being rushed off in the ambulance. It all felt so empty now.  
  


* * *

  
Soon we ended up returning to our own countries, for those of us lucky enough to survive. For the other countries, the bodies were sent back for burial. Jete recovered in the hospital, thank God, and was soon back to Albania recording new songs.  
After returning to the UK, I actually thought I would never end up making music again, but Nils convinced me to try again, and soon enough, we were back to making music and holding concerts like the good old days. It wasn't normal, but, it was a sort of normal. It was the closest I'd felt to normal since the attack.  
It was such a hard thing to cope with. The other thing was the media. They don't tell you how to deal with that stuff. They don't prepare you for it. All those reporters, just looking for a scoop, asking you questions endlessly. Day after day. And then one day, it just stops. Because the world has moved on, onto the next story, the next scandal. No one talked about the attack on the contest anymore. In some ways, it was a relief, but in other ways, it was harder. Now we were just some old news story, totally alone in what we'd been through in a disinterested world.  
The thing they don't tell you, is if you go through something like that, then it's never really over.  
In our own ways, we coped. But one entrant had a much harder time than anyone else. The Portuguese entrant, Amalia. Amalia went missing shortly after we all returned to our home countries. The next time I heard about her, it was about a mass shooting in Strana Listyev. Amalia had gone there and attacked them, and then fled into the night. I'm ashamed to say I felt rather good when I heard that. But I never said I was a good person. Amalia is still on the run, and wanted internationally as a "war criminal" despite the fact that technically there is no war in Strana Listyev. But if they want a war, I'm sure someone would be willing to give them it. Sweden had been talking about it for months now. Anyway, you go, Amalia, go get 'em. We love you.  
  


* * *

  
In 2023, Eurosong didn't happen, partly because they were so fearful of an attack happening on the contest again, partly because the contest's reputation had been tarnished by it. When the cancellation was announced, I wasn't surprised at all. Security had failed, how could any country send their singers to the contest and expect them to be safe?  
Then there was the Eurosong reunion concert in Amsterdam later that year. I was surprised that we all actually showed up, except for Amalia of course, who was on the run from Interpol, and Miroslav, who felt like he never belonged because he had not been held hostage like everyone else. He shouldn't feel bad, it wasn't his fault. I wouldn't have minded him turning up at the concert. The event went well, and it was good catching up with all my old friends. Except that there was a huge fight between Jete and Dragan, but what else is new?  
In 2024, Eurosong happened again. In Sweden. The event was held in honour of Elias and Elsa, the Swedish winners of 2022, and a candle was lit for each of the 2022 contestants who had died in the attack by Strana Listyev. I said I wouldn't watch it, but I did end up watching it. I was surprised to see Paramaz on TV, he was at the contest again. This time he was Armenia's entrant. I was also quite surprised to see him actually go on to win the whole thing, but his song was very good. His song was called 'Cosmic Universe' and it was very catchy. He also gave a great speech after winning. A lot of the winning speeches over the years sounded corny, but not his. He'd been through the same shit we had, after all. And we'll never be able to forget it.  
After Paramaz performed his winning song, all the 2024 contestants got together at the very end to sing the winning song of 2022, 'Världsfred.' Världsfred had become somewhat of a peace anthem after the event. But I know that you can't have peace with Strana Listyev. Not now, not ever. But for now, I felt things going back to normal. I actually felt happy again. It was the happiest I had felt in a long time. I think the therapy helped a lot too (it was Nils who convinced me to go to that.) Nils hopes that one day the world will be a better place, but I'm cynical enough to know better. I just hope that we can all live in peace. But I'm cynical enough to know better about that, too. As I sat there on the couch with Nils after the contest ended, he smiled at me. That big, goofy smile of his. It would be nice if this moment could last forever. But I knew it couldn't last. Just as I was thinking that, the news came on. Breaking news. Strana Listyev had just blown up the Statue of Liberty in America. How the hell?  
"Here we go again," Nils sighed, as he switched the channel. That was one of our coping mechanisms, ignoring it, switching the channel, changing the tab, ignoring Strana Listyev. But you can't ignore it forever. The world can't keep ignoring it. One day, the world will have to seriously deal with this issue. For now, me and Nils will get back to what we were doing before Eurosong 2024 came on. Playing video games. Hopefully one day they'll catch that bastard Adrik and make him face justice. One day.


End file.
